A House Divided - Stoker's Scandal
by Piscean6724
Summary: Mike's bad day is about to get much worse. Will his shift mates be able to save him from his nightmare? This is the fifth installment in the A House Divided series and picks up where Marco's Mission ends.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Welcome to the next installment of A House Divided. I hope you will forgive me for what I'm about to do to our favorite engineer.

Warning: strong language

Stoker's Scandal

Chapter 1

Mike Stoker grumbled as he pulled a dry light blue uniform shirt over his white tee shirt. Chet's unexpected water bomb had managed to dampen not only his face and clothes, but further dampened his already sour mood. He had cut himself shaving during his morning routine, spilled his coffee onto his pristine kitchen counter, then dribbled milk from his cereal bowl onto his first uniform shirt - all while still at his apartment. His later than usual arrival combined with his disastrous morning left his blood pressure elevated and a tension headache developing at the base of his skull.

When he heard the jovial mood of his shift mates echoing across the apparatus bay, he decided to join them in the locker room for a little light hearted conversation, a diversion from his frustrating morning. Then it happened. The springing sound he had heard too many times sounded near his left ear, but the end result was not an angry Johnny with water dripping off his shaggy dark hair. Instead, the prank left the station engineer wet and enraged, changing into his third shirt of the shift and they hadn't even had roll call, yet.

When he heard his superior's voice booming across the locker room, he expected the man would be summoning the alter-ego of their younger lineman. But, it wasn't the Phantom who was being called into the captain's office - it was Mike. He quickly tucked his shirt into his navy blue pants, following Captain Stanley across the apparatus bay as they headed for the small office at the front of the building.

"Who is it?" The engineer questioned in his usual soft spoken voice, hiding the frustration that was simmering just beneath the surface of his calm exterior.

"County Fire Marshall and investigator," Hank tossed over his shoulder. "We're being stood down for an hour while they interview us."

Immediately, Mike bristled. Investigator? Fire Marshall? He rolled his eyes as he approached the open door. He had already answered so many questions about the fire at Alexia's apartment on the night of her rescue. There was nothing more he could tell them. He and Marco had agreed to only discuss Alexia with those who had a need to know about her, and only about her assault and apartment fire. That short list included Police Lieutenant Crockett, Chet, and the hospital staff at Rampart. Even Johnny and Roy had only found out by accident. Hank had not been privy to the information. At the time, there had been no real reason to notify him, as nothing had happened that interfered with their work. Of course, when Marco notified Hank of his need for extended leave, he had to explain the details to his captain. However, Marco and Mike had agreed not to disclose the fact that Mike had been contacting Alexia, spending time with her, and giving her money on a regular basis for several weeks prior to the incident. That decision would haunt the quiet engineer in the weeks to come.

The decision to remain closed-lipped about Alexia's past served two purposes; one was to protect Marco's sister and family, the other was to protect Mike and his reputation in the community and the department. Mike was a man with a perfect personnel file and exemplary service record. He was a gentleman with values, dignity, and respect for others. He never clamored to be the center of attention. He cared for the well-being of his fellow man, regardless of socio-economic status, skin color, what their religious beliefs might be, or which political party they preferred. He was not a womanizer, or a serial dater. And he certainly wasn't a man who bought sexual gratification from a prostitute. Michael Stoker was a man of character.

The engineer walked into the office, expecting to see their guests scrambling for additional details about what Mike had observed at the scene of Alexia's apartment fire. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Hank stepped inside the office, closing the door behind his second in command. "Mike, this is Investigator Samford Bennett with the Arson Unit," he introduced, indicating the tall younger man. "And Assistant Chief Leonard Hunley, the Fire Marshall," Hank said, sweeping his hand toward the more rotund gray-haired gentleman, intentionally introducing the higher ranking man last. "This is my engineer, Firefighter Specialist Michael Stoker."

Mike surveyed the set jawline of his superior and knew that something was amiss. Hank was obviously uncomfortable with their guests, which made Mike's muscles tense up. He also noticed that his captain had not offered the two men any coffee or even a place to sit. Instead, the experienced captain narrowed his eyes at the two guests as if waiting for them to pounce.

"Okay, you have my man in here. Go ahead and ask your questions." Hank stepped aside slightly, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive stance.

"Alright, I believe the A-shift from this station responded to an apartment fire just after assuming duty on the morning of 29 July 1975 at Lexington and  
Carmichael."

Hank allowed a sarcastic smile to cross his chiseled features as he nodded to the obviously new investigator. "I believe I've already answered that one. We've rolled on several apartment fires, Mr. Bennett. If the log says we were there, then we were."

"And the casualties from that fire included an elderly female with minor smoke inhalation, and a pregnant woman. Is that correct?"

Mike looked at Captain Stanley with a questioning look. "Yes… That's right."

"And, Mr. Stoker, you reported seeing a suspicious looking male, leaving the scene, right?" Sam Bennett continued.

"Look, do I need to raise my right hand, or be sworn in or something?" Mike asked, grinning good-naturedly, feeling as if he were being cross-examined on the witness stand.

"Did you?" The Fire Marshall questioned, returning the conversation to a state of seriousness.

"Yes," Mike responded, his nervous smile morphing into a scowl.

"Can you describe the individual?"

Mike looked at the investigator, wondering where the line of questioning was headed. "No… I mean, he was tall and slender, but he was wearing a gray jacket with a hood on as he walked away, so I didn't get a good look at him. I thought it was strange that he was wearing a jacket when the weather was so warm. It stood out in my mind."

Fire Marshall Hunley pressed his lips into a thin line as he looked over at his investigator. He gave the younger man a nod to continue.

"And are you aware that prior to her apartment being set on fire, the pregnant woman had been assaulted, which resulted in the death of her unborn child?"

"Yes… Our paramedics told us about it when they returned from the hospital follow-up," Mike offered, glancing down at his feet as his thoughts turned to Alexia Lopez. He had found out much later that the woman the investigator had just referenced had become Alexia's roommate as a result of the incident.

The Fire Marshall noted how Mike began to shift his weight, diverting his eyes away from the questioning men. He made a mental note of the engineer's behavior, which further convinced him that Investigator Bennett was right.

"Do either of you need to see the log book?" Hank questioned, spreading his feet just a little wider apart.

"That won't be necessary," Marshall Hunley stated, his palm facing outward to Hank as he turned away from the station captain and back towards the engineer.

"Ahem, yes," the investigator continued, opening up his folder. "Mr. Stoker, I've read the report from Captain Gunn regarding a gas station fire which you reportedly observed in the early morning hours of…," he flipped through the documents in his manila file folder, dropping the first page onto the floor. He reached over, picking up the paper and scanning for the date.

"Yes, I did," Mike responded. "I mean, I certainly don't remember the date, but I do remember the incident. I spoke to the captain on scene to show him where I thought it had started," he continued.

"Were you alone?" The Fire Marshall butted in.

"Yes," Mike answered, his back stiffening as he remembered that Alexia had been with him when he had first smelled the acrid smoke, but had disappeared by the time the fire department had arrived.

"The attendant on duty reported that a woman, who he thought to be a prostitute, entered the store and asked him to call the fire department. Did you ask her to do that?"

"Yes." Mike responded flatly. "But he obviously didn't do it since I had to go back in a few minutes later to get him out and make the call myself."

"And was she in your, uh, company?" The older man asked.

Mike narrowed his eyes. "She was at the gas station. I asked her to go inside and tell the attendant to call the fire department," Mike stated, ignoring the question of whether Alexia was with him or not.

Fire Marshall Hunley pulled out a large plastic bag with a soot-covered gray garment inside. "And, is this yours?" He asked, pushing the foul-smelling jacket towards Mike.

Mike placed his hand inside the hood of the familiar item of clothing, seeing his initials scrawled across the label. "Yes… It's an old jacket I kept in my truck. I used it to try to smother the flames. I guess I left it at the scene that night, but it was ruined anyway." He crossed his own arms, mimicking the stance of his captain. He didn't like the inferences of the men from the Fire Prevention Division.

"Um," Sam Bennett flipped over to another piece of paper. "And… Were you the person who called in a fire at an abandoned warehouse on…," once again, he hesitated as he looked for the address and date.

"Yes, I was. I was driving by with my friend, Firefighter Marco Lopez, and we both noticed the smoke." Mike narrowed his eyes as he felt his heart racing. "Why?"

"Just answer the questions, Mr. Stoker," the Fire Marshall interrupted, his lips dripping with sarcasm.

Hank glared at the Fire Marshall, turning to face him directly. "With all due respect, I believe he is doing just that."

The two older men in the room glared silently at each other as Sam Bennett continued his questioning. "Okay, and I have a report here that indicates that you asked Lieutenant Ronald Crockett to call in an apartment fire approximately one week ago."

"Yes," Mike answered, curtly.

"And were you the first person to become aware of the fire?" The questioning continued by the investigator.

"I don't know. I just drove up to the stop sign, saw the flames, asked Crockett to call it in, while I tried to evacuate the building."

"I see...," Bennett responded, perusing the papers. "And, what were you doing on the scene at the time?"

Mike flared his nostrils. "Are you asking me why I was at that particular building?"

"Uh, yes, that is the question," Bennett commented, feeling threatened by the taller man who was inching toward him.

"Meeting Crockett to assist him with a police matter involving a friend," Mike snorted, unwilling to tell the two men the details of his plans on that particular night.

"What is your friend's name? We're gonna need a statement…"

"Like hell," Mike cursed through gritted teeth. He took another step forward, his bad morning only getting worse. "Have you questioned Lieutenant Crockett? He'll tell you that I saw the flames when I drove up." Mike glared at the Fire Marshall, unaware that he was clenching and releasing his fists.

"We've gotten a statement from the police officer, yes," the Fire Marshall began. "And all he could confirm was that you wanted him to talk with a young woman who might have been involved in some illegal activities. He arrived at the appointed meeting place, you were a few minutes late, and when you got there you saw the fire."

"Damn you," Mike croaked out, pushing the curses past the angry lump in his throat.

The Fire Marshall turned toward the station captain. "Hank, you better get your man back in line here."

"I always get my men back in line… When I feel they've stepped out of it." The fire captain remained stone faced, ensuring that everyone in the room knew he was in agreement with his engineer.

Mike felt his heart leap into his throat. He recognized the line of questioning, and he was rapidly becoming infuriated. "Why don't you go ahead and say it," Mike spoke up, positioning himself threateningly close to the nervous investigator. "I know what you're both alluding to, and…"

"Why were you late meeting him? Busy setting your stage?" The cocky Fire Marshall asked. "I'm just gonna straight up ask you, Stoker."

Before he could ask his question, Hank took a step to the side, partially in front of Mike. "You better make damn sure what you're about to accuse my man of, Hunley."

The Fire Marshall felt his face turning a bright crimson color. No one had talked to him that way since he'd been promoted six months earlier, and he certainly wasn't going to allow Captain Hank Stanley to embarrass him in front of his employee. "You WILL respect me as your superior, CAPTAIN Stanley," the older man growled, emphasizing Hank's lower ranking.

"And you will respect MY man, in MY station, on MY shift, Assistant Chief Hunley," Hank spat out, knowing he was bordering on insubordination.

"I respect all the men who wear this badge with honor and pride. But not those who become a disgrace to the department and all we stand for," the pudgy man replied, moving closer to the taller Hank Stanley, both men beginning to posture, both determined to be the alpha male in the small office space. "I have a form here for you to sign, Specialist Stoker," the Fire Marshall said, deliberately omitting the term 'Firefighter' as he reached out his hand to his investigator.

Sam pulled the requested paper from his folder and handed it to his supervisor.

"Michael Stoker, as of the signing of this acknowledgment, you are immediately placed on administrative leave pending the outcome of this investigation," he said, passing the form over to a fuming Hank Stanley.

Mike had seen and heard all he could take. The quiet engineer, planted one hand on his narrow hip and pointed the other in the direction of the two accusing men. His blue eyes turned dark with fury, and his breaths became short and fast. "I AM a man who wears my badge with honor and pride, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna stand here and be treated like a god damn arsonist by the likes of the two of you," he cursed. "I won't sign your damn paper. In fact, why don't you shove…," he scoffed, restraining his tongue as he spun on his heels and rushed out the door, slamming it behind him as he exited.

Hank shot orbital daggers at the two men left standing in his office. "What the hell are you doing? You know I wasn't made aware of this prior to discussing it with Mike."

"This is a very unusual situation," Hunley commented, staring at the form in Hank's trembling hands.

"Stay put," the captain ordered, knowing he had no authority to keep the men there. He stepped briskly into the bay, greeted by a startled Chet Kelly exiting the dorm room. "Round up the men and stay in the kitchen," Hank ordered, loping out the back bay door hoping to catch Mike as he crossed the parking lot heading for his vehicle. "Hold up, Mike."

At the sound of Hank's voice, the engineer froze in his tracks, his face burning with a rage he had never felt before. He stared at his pick-up truck as Hank approached him from behind. Slowly, he turned around, his angry blue eyes glaring at his captain. "Why didn't you tell me? I deserved better than this, Cap."

"I know you did, Mike. I found out about it at the same time you did. That bastard Hunley didn't follow procedures laid out by headquarters, and I promise you I will be filing a grievance against him."

"I'm outta here," Mike scoffed again.

"Don't do it, Michael," Hank said in a raised voice. "Do NOT walk away from this. You'll get more than administrative leave."

Mike turned halfway around, staring at the base of the hose tower. "Why the hell not, Cap?" He waved his hand in the direction of the station. "I did NOT set any fires and I'll be damned if I'm gonna be sent home on administrative leave while they trump up more allegations against me. I'll resign first. I've had a clean record with the department until this… shit," he said blowing out his breath, his hands trembling from the adrenaline rush his body had experienced. "I mean, this department, this station… You and the guys, it's… This is my life; it's what defines who I am," he continued, his voice quivering with emotions as he splayed his hand on his chest. "I don't have anything else, Cap. They're trying to take it all away… So… What do I have to lose?"

"Everything," Hank said, summing up the situation in a single word. "This is a terrible mistake on their part," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "They have no idea what hornets' nest they just stirred up. Hunley and I go way back, Mike. He hates me and I feel the same way about him. This new prick, Bennett, I don't know what the hell his problem is. I don't think he could make his way out of a wet paper bag, let alone a burning building."

"What are you saying, Cap? That I should just stand there and be accused of the worst thing a fireman can be accused of? Sign the form, basically a confession, and go home?" Mike's chest was heaving as he waited for an answer.

"No… I'm saying that you sign the acknowledgment. That's all it is, Mike. It means that it was discussed with you, not that you agree with it or that you are confessing your guilt. If you don't, then you ARE guilty of insubordination. I can't defend you on that one. Sign it… Calm down… Then you can leave. I know you're upset, but… Mike, I won't… I can't allow you to leave under these circumstances. Not when you're this upset."

The world seemed to keep turning, the sounds and smells of Los Angeles continued around them as if nothing had happened. But Mike's world had just come to a screeching halt. He looked up at the man he both admired and respected, knowing that the words of wisdom his captain spoke held a lot of truth in them.

"Fine," Mike acquiesced, glancing down at their shadows on the concrete beneath his feet. "But you can't defend me on these accusations, either. You weren't there," Mike's blue eyes reddened as he looked down at the paper in Hank's hands. He hated it and what it represented. He especially hated being removed from his post when his friends, his brothers, were on shift. His job was to keep them safe. Now he had to trust another engineer to keep his brothers safe.

Hank waited for his engineer to scrawl his name along the signature line of the administrative leave form. When Mike shoved the paper back at him, he spoke softly in response. "Very well." Hank gulped as he forced the words out of his mouth. "You're formally dismissed… Temporarily… If you think you've settled down enough to drive." Hank continued to stare at his engineer. "Are you able to drive yourself home?"

Mike's blue eyes turned toward his captain. "Yes… Just please… Will you do one thing for me?" Mike asked.

"Of course."

"Don't tell the guys. Tell them anything else, whatever it takes… Just please don't tell them that I'm facing accusations of arson," the younger man begged. "Please, Cap?"

Hank slowly nodded his head, unsure of what he might be able to tell his men, but he respected his engineer, and he would do as the younger man asked. "Alright… I won't tell them anything, just… Just go home, Mike. Nowhere else, but home… I'll call you later… Okay?"

Mike gave a non-committal shrug of his shoulders then walked to his truck. Hank watched as one of the finest engineers in the county drove away from the station. He hung his head, his hands propped on his hips. "Hunley… You'll pay for this, you bastard. If it's the last thing I do, you'll pay for this," he mumbled.

Hank turned around, heading toward his office to face the dastardly duo he had left behind. When he walked inside, the Fire Marshall was seated at Hank's desk while the sweating investigator continued to thumb through his paperwork, seated beside his Assistant Chief. "So… Did you accomplish your task, Hunley?" He grunted, shoving the signed acknowledgment in the direction of the man he so hated.

Leonard leaned forward slightly, aware that he was imposing on the captain's private space. "I think so. His actions certainly tell us more than those reports do."

"And what did his actions tell you that you didn't already know?" Hank sneered. "Sounds to me like you've already got your mind made up."

"I won't allow the worst kind of fireman to invade our department. I won't let a fire starter remain employed with LA County, Hank."

"If I wasn't wearing this uniform right now, I'd be pounding your cocky ass into the floor," Hank spoke up, noting the shocked look on the young investigator's face. "This isn't about my man, and you know it."

"It's ONLY about your man, Stanley. Nothing else, no matter what you may think. Now, I might be able to overlook the fact that your crew rolled on a call shortly after shift change, where Stoker says he saw a suspicious looking male that he can't describe, leaving the scene. That's plausible, but look at it among the other evidence. I can't overlook the fact that he was in a shady part of town, in the middle of the night, and was the first to see the fire in a dumpster that our investigation proved was deliberately set. He left his jacket, oddly similar to the one the unknown male was wearing at the first apartment fire, AND," the man held up his chubby hand, "that he was the one who called in an abandoned warehouse fire, in that same crime-ridden part of town, with a friend who could conveniently corroborate his story. AND," he said, drawing another deep breath, "that he also happened to REQUEST that a Los Angeles City Police Lieutenant meet him at yet ANOTHER shady location with some cockamamie story about helping out a young woman caught up in some illegal activity, and when he arrived, later than expected, he just happened to see flames in the window of an apartment. Oh, and the woman in the burning apartment had been conveniently assaulted by her pimp, too. Beaten like the pregnant woman in fire number one." The Fire Marshall leaned back in his seat, his chest heaving. "I know a man has been arrested for the last assault. Maybe he is the one who's guilty of that crime, but was he hired by Stoker to cover up his act of arson… Or maybe Stoker had him assault the woman AND set the apartment on fire so Mike could come in like the damn cavalry to save the damsel in distress, to be the hero." He paused once more, running his thick fingers across his chin as he pondered the evidence. "You gotta admit, Hank. When you look at all the scenarios, the only common denominator is your man. That can't be a coincidence."

Hank sat back, realizing how all of the pieces were painting a nasty picture for his engineer.

"Is your man tired of looking at gauges, missing the fight with the dragon? Has he grown tired of standing in the shadows of the engine while the paramedics and linemen get the accolades, being forgotten while his brothers are being called heroes? Hasn't been credited with a rescue in a long time, has he?" The Fire Marshall leaned forward even more as he allowed his words to sink their teeth into the tender heart of the captain. "Is he a firebug? Is he seeking the services of hookers, Stanley? Did he assault that poor young woman in the first fire, setting it ablaze before going to work, because she was a prostitute carrying his unborn child?"

Hank gritted his teeth together. He intentionally interjected himself into the Fire Marshall's personal space by leaning his weight on one hand propped on the corner of his desk. "You better get outta o' my station, you filthy sonofabitch," Hank spat out, drops of spittle landing squarely along Hunley's cheekbone. "Get. Out. Now. And don't think headquarters won't hear about this. I'll be filing a complaint against you both!" The enraged fire captain threatened.

Hunley stood, looking up into the steaming face of Hank Stanley. "You better think twice about that, captain. Your man's already in deep shit. Don't wanna make it worse for him now, do ya?" Hunley looked over at his young investigator indicating that their interview was over. He then returned his chalky face towards the captain. "Think about what I said, Hank. He fits the profile. It's always the quiet ones you have to worry about," he said, stepping over the threshold of the office door and out towards his department issued car. The interview had gone exactly the way he had expected, and he couldn't have been happier.


	2. Chapter 2

Stoker – 2

E!

Hank gritted his teeth together, running a worried hand through his dark hair as he stood alone in his office. "You'll pay for this, Hunley. If it takes the last breath in me, you'll pay." He stepped out of his office, ensuring that the Assistant Chief and his investigator were gone before he slowly headed to face his men. He didn't know what he would tell them, but he had to honor Mike's wishes. Even if it went against his better judgment.

Slowly he pushed through the kitchen door, looking into the worried eyes of his men as they sat around the kitchen table. "Men… We're stood down until a replacement engineer gets here. Let's go ahead and have roll call so we can get the chores done."

"What happened to Mike?" Chet asked, knowing he might not get an answer.

Hank inhaled deeply. The question he was unprepared to answer had just been posed. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the floor, biting his bottom lip. When he finally looked back up, his eyes met those of Marco's replacement, and his gut churned. This needed to be kept in-house as much as possible. "Pete, will you give me a few minutes with my men, please?"

The red-haired man nodded his understanding. This had more to do with their personal lives than their station. "I'll go start cleaning the latrine," he said pushing away from the table and heading out the door.

Hank's head turned to follow the retreating lineman, avoiding facing his men as long as possible. As soon as Pete was gone, the questions began.

"Cap, is Mike in trouble?" Johnny asked, his own nervousness apparent in his voice.

"He needs his friends now; that's really all I'm allowed to say," Hank responded, knowing his voice sounded terse.

"That car was from headquarters," Roy stated, his blue eyes holding concern as he stated the obvious before asking his question. He had seen the red officer's car parked on the apron when he and Johnny had walked from the locker room to the kitchen. "He met with someone in your office. Now he's gone… What gives?"

"He asked that I not give any details," Hank offered in response, his voice merely a whisper.

"He who? Mike or the HQ brass?"

"Look, John. I'm not at liberty to discuss this. Please understand," Hank pleaded. The last thing he wanted was dissention among his men. "To answer your question… It was Mike."

Chet pushed away from the table, his chair scraping across the floor. He knew he was being insubordinate, but his concern for his shift mate won out over his self-control. "Don't lie to us, Cap. We're not stupid, you know?" He stood up to his superior, although his stature was several inches shorter. "HQ brass was here and now Mike's gone. That can only mean one thing. He's in trouble. And whatever it is… It's wrong!"

"You don't know that, Kelly. You don't know the details of…"

"Are you defending them on this?" Johnny asked, standing up beside Chet, his voice rising an octave. "Are you saying Mike's done something wrong within the department?" Johnny's anger was displayed across his red-tinted face, his blood pressure rising.

"No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm just…"

"Sure sounds like it, Cap." Roy's voice was flat as he said what was on his mind. He stood up, joining his two shift mates. "Mike's the most ethical among us. He'd never do something that wasn't exactly by the book."

"Look," Hank said, leaning a hand on the corner of the table. "I am NOT defending what they're saying he's… I mean, I'm not abandoning my man. I'm standing behind him 100%, but there's nothing I can do while this is under…," he gasped, realizing just how close he had come to telling them that Mike was being investigated. "There's just nothing I can do right now."

"With all due respect, sir… You're full o' shit!" Chet grumbled, casting his eyes downward. He knew he was in for at least a tongue lashing for cursing at his captain, maybe worse.

"KELLY," Hank said, raising his voice as his own internal control began to falter. "How dare you swear at me? I'm still the captain of this shift, and I…"

"Then act like it," Johnny spat out, interrupting his captain.

"Don't make me send both of you home for insubordination!" Hank's index finger was shaking as he pointed it at his two youngest men.

Johnny and Chet looked at each other, each one hoping Roy would speak up and join them. When he didn't, Johnny spoke.

"WE believe in Mike," he said swiping his hand between himself and Chet. He wondered why Roy didn't voice his unity, but decided to have a private conversation with his partner later.

"What is this? Some kind of mutiny? This has nothing to do with you, so honor Mike's wishes and stay out of it!" Hank reached in front of him, grabbing the back of the chair Pete had vacated and slamming it against the table with a loud crash.

"Nope… It's not mutiny," Johnny began. "It's called team work, brotherhood, whatever you wanna call it. We stick together. Mike's one of us. He's our engineer. He's our brother. You of all people should understand that!"

"I do understand it, John! I do. But… I can't… Arrgh!" He growled, turning his back to the three men standing around the kitchen table. "He asked me not to tell you fellas what this was all about," he said, his back remaining to the men. He pinched the bridge of his nose, staving off the dull aching in his head. "Please respect his wishes," he shrugged, his voice fading. "Kelly, kitchen. Gage and DeSoto, dorm. Mike's replacement can take the bay. Dismissed."

E!

Mike glanced in his rearview mirror, seeing Station 51 fading away behind him, feeling as if his career was fading away with it. He wanted to go to the beach, allow the wind and the waves to rid him of his anxiety and anger, but he had made a promise to his captain. He would go home to his apartment, to the solitary life he disliked, while his brothers worked their shift without him. What would Hank tell them? What would Mike tell them if they called to ask him what had happened?

He turned his truck into the entrance of his apartment complex, parking in his usual parking space, snorting at the irony of it. Everything in his life had order - his closet, his drawers, his soup cans, his magazines, even his parking space. Everything about Mike Stoker spoke of organization and ultimate control… Until now. He slammed his truck door closed, gripping his keys in his right hand as he made his way up the walkway to his apartment. He opened the door, walking into the quiet abode, and dropping his keys down in the wooden bowl on his table. Plopping himself down on his sofa, he looked around at the immaculately clean room. His personal life matched his personnel file, unblemished. He huffed, blowing out his breath as he allowed his shoulders to slump. He felt as if all his hard work had been for nothing. All his blood, sweat, and tears throughout his career seemed to have been in vain. He rubbed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he fought with his emotions. His heart was racing and his mouth felt like it was full of sand. His breathing began to come in short gasps as his tears pushed to the surface.

All he had been trying to do was help out his friend, his brother. Marco had needed help finding his sister, Alexia. When Mike had actually met Alexia, he felt her tugging at his heart, more than he wanted to admit. She was trapped, her eyes full of the fear of a caged wild animal. All he had wanted to do was save her from her pimp. He thought of how similar Alexia's situation was to a victim trapped within a burning structure. They were always frightened, begging for help. Sometimes their own fear made them resistant to the very hands that were there to save them. Occasionally, the rescuer got injured trying to save his victim. That's what had happened to him. He had been burned, but not by the fire or by the victim lashing out in distress. No, Firefighter Specialist Michael Stoker had been burned by The Fire Prevention Unit of the County of Los Angeles Fire Department – the very department he had committed his life to.

"Damn it!" He cursed, slamming his fist into the back of the sofa. "Sonofabitch!" He leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. He counted the specks in the tiles as he fought to slow down his breathing. He slowly pulled his head back into an upright position then leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He cupped his hands together in a tight fist, resting his thumbs against his mouth. His eyes burned, bloodshot from his anger. "You're wrong, Hunley," he mumbled into his firmly clenched hands, his blue eyes staring into the emptiness of his silent apartment. "I'm not the arsonist you think I am… But I'll protect what I love… And damn the man who gets in my way…"

E!

Alexia felt herself tense up as the nurse pushed her through the glass doors and into the sunlight. Her instinct was to look around, see who was watching her. She had to remind herself that she was free now, no one was going to be reporting to Ricardo about her every move. Her captor was in jail, facing a string of charges, only a few of which were actually related to her. Yet, five years of indoctrination could not be removed in only a week. It was going to take time. She clung to the pictures of her precious son, the child she hoped to meet later today. As the forward movement of the wheelchair slowed, she looked up and saw the welcoming smile of her mother and brother. Marco was standing beside the back passenger's door of his car, ready to assist her.

Maria's tears were spilling onto her cheeks, her smile radiant. This was what she had been praying for for so many years. Alexia was free and healthy enough to go to The Wellhouse, the last stop before she could return home.

"Take my arm," Marco said, standing beside the parked wheelchair. "I'll help you get into the car."

Alexia did as instructed, somewhat weak and achy from her assault and time in the hospital. She felt the muscles in her brother's arm, and knew that it was just an inkling of the strength he held in his heart. He was stalwart in so many ways. She was grateful that her little boy had such a wonderful role model in his life. She sat down in the back seat of the car, pleased when she saw her mother take the seat beside her rather than the front passenger's seat. She reached out, grasping her mother's hand as Marco closed the door and circled around to the driver's seat.

"I'm so proud of you, Lexi," Maria spoke softly as she reached inside her oversized purse to retrieve a small wrapped box. "I've been hoping I would have the opportunity to give this to you one day. I think today is the perfect time." She thought she heard Marco sniffle from the front seat as he pulled into traffic. A moment later, their eyes met in the rearview mirror and the redness confirmed her suspicions.

"Oh, Mama… You shouldn't have gotten me anything. I've cost you so much over the last few years… I… I don't deserve a gift." Alexia gulped as she fingered the delicately tied purple ribbon, tracing the floral pattern of the paper with the tip of her finger. She hadn't received a gift since she left home. So many birthdays and Christmases had past her by without any acknowledgement from anyone. She had convinced herself that she didn't deserve to have special days honored, she wasn't worthy of such displays of affection. Now, as she held the small box, an excitement welled up inside her, reminding her of how she had felt as a child on her birthday. Carefully, she pulled the paper apart, not wanting to tear it. She had owned nothing during her time with Ricardo, and now, even a pretty piece of paper and ribbon were treasures to her threadbare soul. She folded the paper up, wrapping the purple ribbon around it and positioned it beside her so she wouldn't wrinkle it. As her gaze returned to the black velvet box, her eyes began to water. She had seen it before, but not in a very long time. Her heart fluttered and her fingers shook as she reached out, pulling the top open. She gasped when she looked inside. There it was, just as she had remembered it from her childhood. She knew what it represented, and felt much too unworthy of it. Softly, she lowered her face to her lap and began to cry.

Maria watched as her daughter opened the black velvet box, seeing the emotions displayed across her face. Her own heart felt as if it would explode as she reached out, pulling her weeping daughter into a sideways hug. When Alexia laid her head down against Maria's shoulder, the older woman cupped her daughter's face with her left hand. "It's yours now. It's been passed down from my grandmother, to my mother, to me, and now I'm passing it down to you." She kissed Alexia's forehead, feeling her daughter shuddering as she wept. "Do you remember?"

Alexia couldn't speak around the lump in her throat. Instead, she managed to shake her head in affirmation. Although she hadn't prayed The Rosary in a very long time, she still remembered how and the significance of each bead. Her God was real and He was still protecting her, even through the darkest valley of her life. Now, she was beginning to see the light as she began her assent back up out of the dismal life she had found herself in. Through it all, her mother had been praying for her. Instead of disowning her, as Ricardo had told her, the entire Lopez family had welcomed her back. And now, her mother was bestowing upon her her most prized possession. With her head remaining on her mother's shoulder, she reached inside the box and withdrew the beautiful antique. It was a family heirloom, one she would treasure for the rest of her life.

"I thought it might help you get through the rough spots ahead," Maria offered, still holding her daughter close.

Alexia nodded again, clutching the beautiful keepsake firmly in her hand. "Th-thank you, Ma-ma," she whispered, wishing she could go home instead of to The Wellhouse. She wanted to stay within the safety of her mother's arms forever, but she knew she needed to heal. She also knew that being around others who had endured similar things to her would help her to heal much faster. There were things she never intended to tell her family, things she had done, things she had endured. Beverly had assured her this was the best way, and in her heart she knew it was true. She would do whatever was necessary to be able to return to her childhood home and build a relationship with the precious little boy she had been forced to give away on that awful night so long ago.

"Have you told… Him?" Alexia asked, knowing her mother would understand her question.

Maria's heart ached as she carefully chose her words. "No… Not yet… Beverly thought it would be best to see how you adjusted to the… Ahem, to the outside, so to speak. We don't want to tell him about you and then make him wait days to meet you. Days to a child are like years to adults."

Alexia's heart sank. She had hoped to meet her son this afternoon, but now she didn't know when that meeting might take place. Her heart longed to hold him, to kiss him. She remembered how he had held onto her index finger as Ricardo had driven them to her mother's house. It was as if the newborn had been begging her to stay with him, as if he knew what she had planned to do. She sniffled, feeling her mother's gentle caress along her upper arm. She had to face her own demons before she could begin to reconcile with her son. After all, the years separating them had created a chasm between them that would take time to bridge. As of this moment, they were nothing more than strangers, even though he had been tucked away safely within her heart since before he had even been born.

E!

"Good morning, Iris," Caroline called out, rushing through the back door of Bloomers. When she didn't get an answer, she called out again as she entered the work room. "Iris?"

A cup of cold coffee was sitting on the work table, stains on the invoice beside it indicating Iris had spilled a little of it. Quickly, Caroline pulled paper towels off the roll and blotted the invoice dry.

"Oh… I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in," Iris spoke up, drying her hands on a towel as she walked out of the small bathroom. "I see you found my mess."

"It's not bad; I dried it up for you. I don't think there's any real damage done to the invoice," Caroline said with a perky smile. She tossed the used paper towel into the waste basket then looked up at her boss. "Iris? Iris, what's wrong?" She called out rushing over to the older woman. She could see the tear stains on Iris' face, the smudges of her make-up. "What happened?"

Iris sniffled, wishing she had remained in the restroom longer. There was no way she could explain to her employee why she had been crying. Only one person would understand, and if she had calculated the days correctly, he was on shift. "Oh, it's nothing… Just… I'm just missing my daughter terribly today." Iris patted her cheeks dry with the heels of her hands. "Happens sometimes when I least expect it."

Caroline walked over to the older woman, embracing her. She recalled how Iris had doted on Corrie when they had come by to visit before Caroline had accepted the job. She wasn't sure if Iris' daughter had died, or if they were estranged. Regardless, Caroline was familiar with the pain of personal loss. "I know what it's like to miss someone, Iris. It hurts so badly."

Iris embraced Caroline, wondering if this was what it would feel like to hold her daughter if she were still here. "Yea…," she sniffled. "Yea, it does."

"I can handle things here today… If you need to take the day off."

"I'll be okay," Iris stated calmly, reaching for the invoice dampened by her earlier coffee spill. "So, you and Chet have big plans for this evening?"

"No… He's on shift. He did say he wanted to take Corrie and me out to dinner tomorrow night, though."

Iris picked up the dampened invoice, ignoring Caroline's last remark. She had gotten the answer she had been looking for. Chet was at the station, and that meant that John Gage was there, too. She stared at the bold letters written in dark green ink on the top of the invoice. HOLISTIC UNITY GARDENS. She hadn't heard of the group being anywhere near Southern California, but here was the proof.

Caroline glanced over Iris' shoulder, looking at the invoice. "Hmmm, did we get a new supplier?" She asked, wrinkling her forehead.

"Yes, Fran's Flower Farm is going out of business. After the funeral we had last week, we needed to restock our green plants. When I called Fran, she told me she was closing down but would be glad to sell my account to another supplier. I guess this is who she was talking about," Iris said, staring at the acronym on the paper. She had met the truck driver earlier, allowing him inside the back door of the shop. He had unloaded the plants with skill, being more careful not to damage them than most of the suppliers she had encountered. He had been polite and soft-spoken, introducing himself only as Seth. She hadn't looked at the invoice until after he had driven away in his unmarked delivery truck. She read the words on the invoice again, lowering her voice to a whisper. "H.U.G., what a joke," she grumbled to herself, slamming the bill into her file cabinet.

Caroline heard the comment but knew that it wasn't directed at her. She walked over to the coolers to retrieve the flowers she would be needing for her first order, wondering if there was anything she could do to help her friend recover from the loss of her daughter… And wondering why their new green plant supplier seemed to darken Iris' mood even more.

E!

Hank glanced at his watch, noting that his engineer had had enough time to get home. He walked into his office, firmly closing the door behind him. He picked up the phone, dialing the familiar number. "Okay, Mike. Let's see if you followed my order."

Mike was startled by the loud ringing of his telephone. He reached across his sofa, pulling the black handset off the base unit. "Hello?"

"Hey… Just checking to make sure you made it home okay."

Mike ran his hand across his face. "Yea… Home sweet home."

Hank pinched the bridge of his nose again. He hated the defeated sound in Mike's voice. "We're gonna get to the bottom of this, Mike. Don't worry."

"Don't worry? Just how the hell am I supposed to do that, huh? It's not your ass on the line, Cap. It's mine!" Mike's frustration was spilling over quickly. Not one to normally swear, he decided that the verbal release felt energizing, and wondered why he had tried so hard to keep such a clean image over the years. Maybe it was time to allow himself to relax his own tongue a little.

"I know. I know. I wish it was me." Hank wanted to ask more questions. He needed answers but he didn't know how to ask the questions. Finally, as the silence between them lingered, he decided to dive in. "I want to help you through this. But, I've got to know what really happened at those scenes, Mike."

Mike didn't think his rage could ratchet up anymore, but the words he had just heard sent it skyrocketing. "What?" He asked, his voice rising. "You sound like some fuckin' attorney."

"I just need to know how to defend you, that's all," Hank yelled back, hating the anger he heard in his own voice.

"How about by saying that I didn't do it! I didn't do a damn thing they're accusing me of. I thought I was innocent until proven guilty, not the other way around."

Hank exhaled loudly. "You ARE innocent until proven guilty, Mike. I'm just asking you to help me understand why you seemed to be in all the right places at all the right times. That's all."

Mike wanted to tell his captain the truth, but he recalled the conversation that took place in the staff lounge at Rampart on the night of Alexia's rescue. Mike, Chet, Johnny, and Roy had all agreed not to discuss the specifics about Alexia's life and how Mike had intervened. There was no need to bring more shame to the Lopez family and Alexia specifically, by discussing her time spent as a prostitute and the fact that she had abandoned her child. He had given his word on that particular night, and if there was one thing Mike had left, it was his dignity. He was a man of his word, even under these circumstances.

"That's all it was, Cap. I just happened to be at the right place at the right time. That's all," he stated matter-of-factly.

"C'mon, Stoker. I'm not the enemy here."

"And neither am I," Mike spat back. "I haven't done anything wrong and it's really pissin' me off that my own damn department is accusing me of something like this."

"Then just help us understand," Hank spoke softly, hoping the change in his voice might calm down his engineer.

"Us, huh?" Mike snorted.

"What?"

"Us. You said you wanted me to spill my guts to help US understand. You're not on my side at all, are you?"

"Aarrgh," Hank groaned. The throbbing in his head was worsening with each passing second. "You know what I meant, Mike. Of course I'm on your side."

"Bullshit," Mike cursed, feeling the proverbial knife stabbing him in the back. "Thanks for checking on me. Now you can go on back to your shift and let the two assholes do their job of ruining my career."

"Mike, listen…"

"Goodbye… Hank," Mike shot back as he slammed down the phone. He no longer wanted to use the more familiar term of Cap with his superior. That had been reserved for the man who had pulled them together as a unit, the man who led them through each incident, the man they trusted their lives to on every shift. Mike no longer felt like trusting Hank Stanley with his own life. Of course, depending on the outcome of the investigation, he might never need to trust any fire captain again.

Mike stood up, heading for the refrigerator. He pulled open the door and looked at the contents. He was looking for a glass of juice or milk, but it was the beer on the bottom shelf that caught his attention first. Mike rarely drank, keeping the beer on hand for those occasions when he had difficulty unwinding after a particularly bad shift. He often took a hot shower, downed a very cold beer, and was able to relax enough to get some sleep. Over the years, he had seen alcohol ruin more than one man. For that reason, he had never allowed himself to consume more than two in one sitting. Now, he felt the desire to get drunk, even though it wasn't even nine o'clock in the morning.

"What are you doing, Stoker?" He mumbled to himself as he reached for the orange juice. "You'll just have a headache later on." He poured himself a glass of orange juice then stood staring at it on the counter. He did have half a bottle of vodka left over from the station Christmas party last year. "Oh, what the hell." He pulled open the top cabinet above the refrigerator and withdrew the clear bottle. He poured some into his glass of juice then returned it to its hiding place. He swirled the juice around, mixing the alcohol with the fruity liquid, as he headed back to his living room. He turned on his television, knowing there was probably nothing worth watching, but feeling the need for noise. He leaned back, settling on an old black and white western, and downed his homemade screwdriver.

He looked at the small screen of his television set, noting the mountains in the background as the horses kicked up a cloud of dust in the distance. He thought about how Johnny always seemed to be in a better frame of mind after spending time hiking or camping. Maybe he needed some time alone in the wilderness. Maybe that would help him clear his head. He gulped down the last of the concoction, feeling the burn as it rushed toward his belly. He looked at the empty glass, swirling around the remnants of his breakfast cocktail. "Not bad, Stoker," he said to himself, heading back to the kitchen. He didn't know what his future held, but he knew he needed to get out of his apartment. The only question he had to answer now was where to go. Where could Mike Stoker go to get away from the worries his department had chosen to assault him with?

He thought about Alexia, wondering how she was doing. He had not seen her since the night of her rescue. He wasn't even sure if she knew he was the one who had rescued her. Did she wonder where he was, or was he just another man who had given her money for a few minutes of her time? Only her family had been able to visit with her since that night. Marco had indicated that she was improving, but he hadn't elaborated on the subject and Mike hadn't pressed the issue. He wanted to see her, needed to see that she was recovering from her horrific injuries. But he couldn't contact her, or even Marco for that matter. His lineman would want to know why he wasn't at the station, and Mike was unprepared to answer that question. He couldn't let the Lopez family know that he was in trouble. He couldn't heap more guilt onto the head of the already guilt-laden young woman. He inhaled deeply, setting his empty juice glass into the sink. He was alone, totally alone. Now, he had an idea of the emotional turmoil Alexia had been in for the last five years. Now, he understood what it felt like to be separated from those closest to you, especially when you needed them most.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you to everyone for the support you have shown me for this story, especially those who are 'guests.' I have no way of contacting you personally so please accept this note as my sincere thanks.

Chapter 3

Johnny slipped the pillow case over the pillow then dropped it down on Chet's bunk. Roy was busy working on the row of beds across the room, both silently contemplating the sudden departure of their engineer. Johnny craned his neck, staring at his partner's back for a moment until he was no longer able to hold his tongue.

"Chet and I really could've used your support in there."

Roy held the last pillow between his chin and chest, slipping the pillow case over it as he stared at Johnny. He tossed the pillow onto the bunk before he answered. "What do you mean?"

Johnny ran his index finger across his upper lip, propping his other hand on his hip. He narrowed his eyes at Roy. "C'mon, man. We stood up for Mike back there. Why didn't you?"

Roy groaned, not liking Johnny's accusatory tone. "I did, but…"

"Yea, right." Johnny huffed, turning his back to his partner, his ire rising with each beat of his heart.

"Don't turn your back on me," Roy ordered. "You asked me a question. The least you can do is have the decency to look at me while I answer it."

Johnny busied himself with smoothing the wrinkles out of the beige blanket on the bunk. "Sorry, I thought you did answer me." He turned around, leveling his long-time friend with his piercing dark eyes. "Guess you didn't speak up enough for me to really understand you."

"Damn it, Johnny. I can't afford to get tangled up with Cap. Maybe you and Chet can handle time off, but I can't. I've got a family, a mortgage, and… Jo and I… We're just getting our marriage back on track. I just can't mess that up." Roy's round face was turning beet red as he tried to make his point.

"Oh, yea, yea… Chet and I are just rollin' in dough. Just 'cause we're single doesn't mean we're livin' it up, Pally. We've got bills to pay, too. I guess we just value our friends more than you do."

"Johnny, don't you DARE tell me I don't value my friends… I do! But, I've got a wife and kids to think about." Roy emphasized his words with his index finger pointed at his partner. "So just lay-off."

Pete walked into the room, hearing Roy's heated words. He stopped dead in his tracks, looking down the row of bunks at the two men who were obviously in the middle of a very venomous dispute. "Uh, is everything alright, fellas?"

"FINE!" Johnny grunted as he spun on his heels, walking past Pete and out the door.

"Couldn't be better," Roy remarked snidely, finishing up the last bunk.

"Okaayyy," Pete mumbled, whistling as he ambled down the aisle. "Um, which bunk is mine?"

"That one," Roy pointed. "Hitting the hay a little early, aren't you?" He asked sarcastically.

"Yep… At least until the engine is stood back up. I worked yesterday at 69's so, yea… If you don't mind, I think I'll try to shut my eyes for a few minutes," Pete snorted back. "Unless you wanna continue your little spat." He didn't appreciate Roy speaking harshly to him, even though he knew it was just the remnants of his earlier altercation with Johnny.

"Can it, Pete. This is nothing to joke about."

Pete slipped off his boots, and laid down, closing his eyes as he responded. "Nobody's jokin' around, DeSoto. Maybe you need to take your own advice and lay-off," he groaned, rolling onto his side and closing his eyes.

Roy opened his mouth to answer the lineman, then realized that Pete was right. Somehow, he and Johnny had gotten crossed up over an issue that really didn't involve them… And it certainly didn't involve Pete. He turned to walk out of the dorm, needing to be alone for a few minutes to calm down. "Have a nice nap," he called out, turning off the lights as he exited.

The echo of a bouncing basketball told Roy that Johnny was working off his frustration by shooting some hoops in the back lot. He wanted to walk over and apologize, but decided against it until his young partner had calmed down. He was in no mood for a Johnny rant, and neither man needed to be speaking to the other while they were still angry.

Roy walked around the front of the vehicles, passing quietly by the closed door of Hank's office. He briefly considered knocking, but chose to pass on by, knowing that Captain Stanley wasn't in any mood for a conversation. The senior paramedic needed a cup of coffee, and right now, even Chet's company was better than the alternatives. He pushed open the door, seeing the kitchen empty. When he looked to his right, he saw the Irishman leaning his shoulder against the wall beside the telephone, the ear piece nearly covered by his thick curly hair.

"Hey, Mike… How ya doin'?"

Roy rolled his eyes at the absurdity of the question.

"Yea… Um, do you need anything?" Chet wanted to ask the million dollar question directly, but just couldn't bring himself to do it. He decided that if he made enough small talk, perhaps Mike would open up about what had transpired in Hank's office.

On the other end of the line, Mike was running his hand through his hair. "Listen, Chet. I appreciate you calling to check on me, but I… I just really can't talk about this right now."

"Okay, um, how about tomorrow mornin' after we get off shift? Think you'll feel like talkin' about it then?" Chet wasn't going to give up so easily.

Mike exhaled into the phone. As annoying as Chet was at times, he really did care about his friends. Mike remembered when Johnny had been bitten by a rattlesnake, and how worried Chet had been while they waited to see if the anti-venom would work. That's when they had all figured out just how sensitive their junior lineman really was. He wasn't going to give up and Mike knew it. He considered his options, choosing to remain closed about the accusations against him. "I, uh, I appreciate it, man. I really do, but I think I'm gonna go camping. Johnny's showed me some nice places where he goes when he needs some solitude. I need to clear my brain, and… And get my head on straight. Um, maybe when I get back, I'll feel like talking, okay?"

"Yea… Sure, okay." The anxious man responded, wishing Mike trusted him more.

"Thanks, Chet. I really mean that," Mike said, closing his eyes, fearing he was going to regret his decision to brush off his friend, and yet, sensing that sharing his personal agony with someone else so soon might not be the best idea. Normally, he and Hank served as each other's confidant, but that relationship seemed to be in jeopardy, and Mike wasn't ready to talk about his personal pain with anyone else. He was beginning to understand a little about what Alexia and her family had endured over the last few years. He was feeling ashamed, humiliated, and mortified of what the guys might think of the accusations against him. Now he understood why Marco had been so hesitate to talk about his sister.

"Sure thing, buddy. I'll talk to you soon, alright?" Chet questioned, his lighter voice alerting Roy that the conversation was ending.

"Sounds good," Mike responded.

Roy began pouring himself a cup of coffee, listening as the younger man ended his telephone conversation.

Chet turned around, noticing Roy pulling out a chair at the kitchen table. He pressed his lips into a thin line, frustrated by Roy's lack of unity during their conversation with their captain earlier. He scrubbed his face with his hand, walking to the sink. He passed Roy without speaking, allowing his silence to speak for him.

Roy grimaced, his coffee cup hovering near his mouth. "I guess you're pissed off, too, huh?"

"Why, whatever gave you that idea, DeSoto?" Chet asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He turned on the hot water, filling the sink with suds.

"Because a quiet Chet is an angry Chet," Roy stated flatly.

"Guess that's why you scored so much higher on the engineer's exam, Roy," Chet said, washing the first cup. "You're a damn genius."

Roy set his steaming coffee cup down without taking a sip. "Look, I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Johnny a few minutes ago. I have a wife and kids to think about so I can't afford to get suspended… Or worse."

Chet opened his mouth to divulge his future plans regarding Caroline, then decided against it. No one needed to know until the plan was a reality. "Whatever you say, Roy. I've got bills to pay, too. You don't have exclusive rights to being encumbered by creditors, ya know?"

Roy wrinkled his forehead wondering when Chet's vocabulary had improved so much. "You better hang on to Caroline. She's improving your brain function."

"Wish Joanne would improve your attitude," Chet shot back.

Roy felt his head nearly explode. He slammed his palms down on the table, pushing himself up. "What did you say?" He asked, taking a step closer to the Irishman.

"You heard me," Chet said, rinsing the dishes and placing them in the drain, his back to Roy.

"You better leave my wife outta this. If you've got a beef with me, then take it up with me – man to man. But leave my family alone!"

"Then you better leave my girlfriend alone," Chet grunted through his gritted teeth, posturing as he moved in front of Roy. He felt a strong sense of protectiveness when it came to Caroline and Corrie. He loved them both.

The replacement engineer chose that moment to push through the kitchen door, seeing the lineman and paramedic chest to chest, both glaring at the other. "Uh, good morning."

"Morning," Roy said, turning to face the replacement engineer. "I'm Roy DeSoto, Paramedic. I guess you're our engineer this shift?"

"Yes, name's Durham, Gerald Durham. Nice to meet you."

Chet dried his hands on a dish towel before extending his hand. "Chet Kelly, lineman."

"Glad to meet you, Kelly. Um, this is the first time I've been in this station. Which way to the captain's office?"

"I'll take you to meet our captain," Roy said, grabbing his coffee cup before exiting the kitchen, leaving behind the conversation with Chet that had caused him to break out in a sweat.

Roy walked quickly down the side of the brick wall to the captain's office. The door was closed, so he rapped three times in quick succession.

"Come in," Hank called out.

Roy ushered the replacement engineer into the small office. "Cap, this is Gerald Durham, our engineer this shift. Durham, this is Captain Hank Stanley."

Hank stood up, extending his hand in a welcoming gesture, wishing the meeting hadn't been necessary. "Glad to have you. Roy will show you to your locker. I see you're already in uniform so I'll go ahead and inform headquarters that we can be stood back up."

"Yes, sir. Pleasure meeting you, and I'm looking forward to working with you."

Roy lifted his cup to his mouth, sipping a swallow of coffee as he turned to leave. He heard the echo of footsteps confirming that Gerald was following him. He headed across the bay, noticing that Johnny was no longer playing a solitary game of basketball. He wondered briefly where his partner had gone, but never slowed down his steps as he hurriedly pushed through the latrine door. He made his way to an empty locker, pointing it out to the replacement. "Here you go."

"Thanks, DeSoto," Gerald spoke softly, opening the door and placing his duffel bag inside the locker.

Back in the kitchen, Johnny was pouring himself a glass of cold water, needing to rehydrate from his solo basketball game, as he listened to Chet give the details of his earlier telephone conversation with Mike.

"I don't get it. Why is this such a secret?" Johnny asked, lifting the glass to his mouth and gulping the refreshing liquid.

"Hell if I know," the lineman said, shaking his head as he rinsed the remaining suds out of the sink. "I mean, we all know he hasn't done anything wrong."

"I agree," Johnny stated. "I could see me or you gettin' in hot water with the brass, but not Mike."

Johnny pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. Chet poured himself a cup of coffee and quickly joined his shift mate.

Both men sat, staring silently at the gold specks in the white tabletop while trying to remember anything Mike had done recently to warrant a suspension. Suddenly, Chet looked up at Johnny, his blue eyes widening as he considered one possible reason for Mike's sudden departure.

"Gage, you don't think this may have somethin' to do with him helpin' out Lexi, do ya?"

"Why?" Johnny asked, his face animated. "He rescued her from a burning building. It's what we do, for cryin' out loud."

"Nu-uh," Chet shook his head. "There's more to the story… A lot more. See," he began, but was interrupted by Roy entering the dayroom. He looked at the senior paramedic then turned his attention to Johnny. "Let's go out back. I don't feel like talkin' around traitors."

Roy rolled his eyes, picking up the morning paper. He took a seat on the sofa beside Henry, snapping open the newspaper. As he scanned the headlines, he tried his best to tamp down his anger at his departing crew mates. All he had done was protect his family. How could that have been turned into some type of Benedict Arnold event? "Hear that, Henry?" He asked the station mascot. "They think I betrayed Mike. I didn't, you know? Now they're probably out back cooking up some harebrained idea about why Mike got sent home," Roy grumbled, returning his face to the opened newspaper.

The hound dog barely wagged his tale in response, his bloodshot eyes looking up at Roy hoping for a pat on the head. When he didn't get one, he closed his eyes and resumed his nap.

"Talking to me or Henry?" Hank asked, walking into the kitchen.

"Oh… Just griping to the dog. He seems to be the only one who gives a damn about what I think around here, anyway," Roy responded, still thinking about Chet and Johnny refusing to talk in front of him.

"Roy," Hank rubbed his temples between his fingers and thumb as he held his coffee cup in his hand. "I told you earlier that this has nothing to do with you or any of the other guys. Mike doesn't want the details of the investigation shared, and I respect him enough to honor his wishes!"

Roy slammed the newspaper closed. "I wasn't talking about you, Cap. Whatever Mike's done… Or hasn't done, isn't any of our business. If he wants us to know, then he'll tell us, himself." He took a deep breath as he refolded the newspaper and dropped it onto the sofa beside him. "I was talking about those two idiots who just walked out of here. They're somewhere off scheming about what's going on with our engineer, but they didn't want to do it in front of me because they think I don't care about Mike. I do! I just respect him and you enough not to ask questions or make rude comments."

"Sorry, Pal. This whole thing has me rattled, too. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything," Hank offered apologetically.

Before Roy could respond, the klaxons sounded sending the entire station on their first run of the shift. It was the first time the six of them had worked together as a unit, having two replacements among the usual crew. But, the men of the LA County Fire Department were professionals, and as such, they would do their jobs to the best of their abilities, leaving their own personal issues behind. The citizens counted on them, and they would not let them down.

As the front bay door rose, Roy pulled into the street, the red lights and siren blaring. He glanced in the side mirror, noting that Gerald was following with the engine crew, performing his role with the practiced skill of a seasoned engineer. As Roy took his directions from Johnny, their previous argument pushed aside, his mind drifted back to the conversation he had been having with Captain Stanley just before they had been toned out. "Investigation?" He mumbled to himself.

"What's that?" Johnny asked, squinting his dark eyes into the morning sun as they made their way onto the Santa Monica Freeway.

Roy didn't want to distract Johnny, knowing how the younger man could easily become obsessed with things. He decided to wait until after they were released from the call. Maybe then he could have a decent conversation with his younger partner. "I'll tell you later. Which way is quickest?"

Johnny ran his middle finger along the appropriate page in the map book. "Take the next exit and turn left," he said, closing the book and tossing it into the opened glove box. They could see traffic stalled ahead of them and knew that the crash site was a short distance ahead.

E!

Marco pulled his car into the driveway of The Wellhouse. It wasn't what he expected, even though he really didn't know what he thought it should look like. It was an unassuming house, situated in the suburbs. The brown cedar exterior sported newly painted beige shutters and a front porch, complete with several natural wicker chairs and various plants. He helped his mother out of the car then quickly walked around to the opposite side to assist Alexia.

Alexia held onto her brother's arm, her legs shaking as she stood staring at her new temporary home. She reached inside for the small bag that held everything she now owned, all of which had been purchased by her family while she was hospitalized.

"I'll get that, Lexi," Maria spoke up, knowing that her daughter still hadn't recovered all of her strength.

Marco felt her trembling as she hugged Antonio's pictures close to her chest with her left hand, her shaking right arm looped inside the crook of Marco's elbow. He reached around, patting her forearm. "It'll be alright, Lexi. You heard what Beverly said. Everyone here understands. There's no judgment here. No one to be afraid of."

Alexia merely nodded, taking the first few steps toward the house that would be her new home for at least a few weeks. As she reached the steps, the front door opened, revealing a smiling Beverly Marsh.

"I'm so glad you're here, Lexi. I know this isn't easy. I walked up those same steps many years ago, but I haven't forgotten the journey," Beverly said softly, reaching out for Alexia's arm. She wanted to make gentle contact, nothing too rapid that might make the young woman bolt. She knew the fear that Alexia was feeling, the uncertainty of what lay ahead, and the complete lack of trust that she would truly be safe inside this house.

Alexia relinquished her grasp of Marco's arm, allowing herself to be led inside by Beverly. Marco turned back to see his mother drying her eyes. They had both been afraid that she might change her mind about following through with The Wellhouse's recovery program, but so far she seemed to be accepting it. Marco took the striped bag from his mother's shoulder, holding the door open for her as they all entered into the house.

"Lexi, we have five women staying here right now. We place our ladies two to a room, so that no one is ever alone if we can help it. You'll be the sixth person which means that the young woman who's only been here for about ten days will be your new roommate." Beverly glanced at her watch, then offered the trio a seat in the family room. "They should be finished with their group session in about ten minutes. They know you're coming and they're anxious to meet you. So, let's go over the plan for you so that we're all on the same page. When they finish up, they'll come in here and I'll make the introductions." She turned to Maria and Marco. "The two of you are welcome to stay as long as you like, but we ask that there be no visitors remaining after 6:00 PM. We do have security, some hired, some volunteer, who watch over our ladies at night. They need time to make sure everything is secure before lights out."

"We understand," Maria spoke softly. "This is a really lovely home you have here."

"Thank you," Beverly said with pride, her toothy smile peeking through her full lips. "We do a lot of fundraising to support this mission. Many groups and churches throughout the county and even across the state support us with monthly gifts. Our ladies can stay here as long as they need to in order to get on their feet again. We have one here who has absolutely no family support. She recently got a job, but it's only on weekends. She's saving for her own apartment. She's been here the longest, close to eight months. One lady stayed over a year, which is perfectly fine. Most remain for about three months or so. Again, we have no strict time limits at all. Everyone recovers at her own pace, and not everyone is as fortunate as you are, Lexi," Beverly said, turning to her newest resident. "You have the support of a loving family. Half the battle has already been won."

Alexia blushed, dropping her head. Her face turned red as she fought the tears. "I know. I don't deserve it, but I'm so grateful." She looked over at Marco and Maria. "I won't let you down." She allowed the frame she was hugging to slowly fall away from her chest. She looked into the smiling round face of her son. "I won't let him down again, either."

"Okay, rule number one around here is that we don't allow each other to put ourselves down. Our past is just that – past. It's a new day, a bright day, and it's a day to stand up for yourself. Chin up. You'll hear that a lot around here. It means, don't look down at where you've been. Instead, keep your chin up so you can see where you're going," Beverly said warmly. "May I see your picture?" She asked, holding out her hand to take the frame.

"Sure… He's my son and his name is Antonio," Alexia stated proudly. "I named him after my brother," she said, looking across the room at Marco.

"So," Beverly began, casting a flirtatious smile at Marco. "You must be Marco Antonio Lopez."

"Yes, I am. And I'm the proud uncle of that little fellow."

Beverly looked down, smiling wistfully at the grinning little boy in the picture. She wondered what it might be like to have a family of her own someday. But, at the moment, she had no suitors and therefore, no family seemed to be in her immediate future. "He's such a handsome little boy," she said, then quickly turned her head at the sound of female voices approaching the living room. "Sounds like the session is over."

Alexia felt nervous, unsure if she could live with strangers who would know about all the things she had done in the past five years. Her head told her that the others had been in the same situation as she had been, but her heart still held onto the words of Ricardo. He had so often told her that she should be ashamed of who and what she was. He had used derogatory words and phrases which were now imprinted on her heart. She felt her breath quicken as the first faces appeared.

"Ladies, this is Alexia Lopez and her brother, Marco, and mother, Maria."

Marco stood as the women entered the room, nodding his head in acknowledgment to each of them.

The first young woman walked over to the trio extending her ebony hand. All three noticed the lines of scars along her wrist, but only Alexia recognized them for what they truly were. She had been handcuffed repeatedly, and had most likely fought against her captor which caused the handcuffs to dig into her flesh. "Welcome. I'm Monique Mitchell."

Alexia accepted the woman's hand, shaking it softly. "Thank you."

"I'm her roommate, Joni," the lively blonde beside her spoke up. "We're across the hall from where you'll be staying."

"Nice to meet you both," Alexia spoke up, her confidence gaining strength.

"I'm Maureen," the next woman said. She seemed older than the other two, but was just as warm and friendly. Her red hair was pulled back into a ponytail, revealing a scar near her right ear.

"And I'm her roommate, Thaksincha," the Asian woman beside her spoke up. "But everyone just calls me Cha-Cha."

"Nice to meet you, Cha-Cha," Alexia said, wondering where her own roommate might be. Suddenly, she saw a young woman appear from the hallway, a face she immediately recognized that brought fresh tears to her eyes. Her hand immediately covered her mouth, preventing the cry from escaping her lips as she looked at the friend she thought Ricardo had killed.

"I'm Brittany. I'm her roommate… Again," the young woman said, introducing herself to Maria and Marco, as she and Alexia closed the gap between them. There was no need for introductions between the two of them.

"Oh, Bri! You ARE alive!" Alexia gasped, wrapping her arms around her friend. "He told me you were dead!" She cried out as the two embraced each other for several long moments.

Finally the two friends parted, and Brittany looked into Alexia's tear-stained face. "He lied, Lex. Everything Ricardo told us was a lie. All of it."

Marco saw Maria run her fingers beneath her eyes. He knew she couldn't talk at the moment so he turned to Beverly. "Did you know they knew each other?" He asked, taking a seat beside the counselor.

"I figured it out while she was in the hospital. I couldn't tell her that Brittany was here because of rules of confidentiality, but I was able to share enough with Bri that she was able to make the connection, too. She's been so nervous this morning, afraid that Alexia might change her mind about coming." Beverly turned away from the reunited friends, and faced Marco and Maria. "As much as I wanted to tell Alexia that Bri was here, it was important that I didn't. Lexi had to choose to come here on her own. She had to make the choice to stand on her own feet, and face an uncertain future. It sounds harsh, but it's done her so much good already. You'll see what I mean as you watch her recover. This has been a sort of reward for her, reinforcing her decision, letting her know she made the right choice." She smiled at Marco, a flutter stirring her heartstrings as she gazed upon the handsome fireman. "Thank you for trusting me with your sister," she whispered, placing her hand lightly on Marco's knee. "We'll take good care of her, here."

Marco wasn't thinking about what he was doing. His own heart was rejoicing at the happiness he was seeing on his sister's face. He reached down, grasping Beverly's hand with his own larger one. "I know you will. Thank you for saving her. Thank you for bringing our family back together," he whispered back, his thumb gently stroking the back of Beverly's hand. "Thank you for doing what you do."

Beverly gently withdrew her hand from his, still feeling the warmth of his touch. "Thank you for doing what you do, too. I've never told you my whole story, but… A fireman rescued me. I told you about this," she said, pointing to the scar on her throat. "He was off duty, but saw me stagger out of the alleyway covered in blood. He called for a rescue squad and ambulance. He kept me calm and kept pressure on my wound so I wouldn't bleed out before I got to the hospital. That was nine years ago, when I was only twenty-eight and being trafficked along Interstate 10. It was somewhere in Texas, but I honestly don't remember the name of the place, or the fireman. Anyway… I hold a special place in my heart for men like you," she said with a smile that lit up her face.

"I hold a special place in my heart for counselors," he mumbled, turning away from her and back toward his sister. She seemed like she was going to be okay. For the first time in five years, he was seeing her smile. Inside, his own heart was smiling, too, although it was for a different reason. His hand could still feel the softness of Beverly's own feminine touch. He hadn't felt that in a very long time, either. Maybe, Alexia wasn't the only Lopez who was being given a chance at new life.

E!

Back at his apartment, Mike was packing up his camping gear. He surveyed the equipment he had placed beside the door, mentally checking off the list of items he would need. He had no idea how long he would be gone, so he needed everything he had available. He gathered up his maps, dropping them inside the backpack that he slipped onto his shoulder. Over the next ten minutes, he loaded up his pick-up with his gear. He added an empty ice chest that he would fill with groceries when he made his first stop. As he closed his apartment door behind him, he turned around to see his landlord watching him closely from across the courtyard.

"Hello, Mr. Hartley," Mike called out with a wave of his hand.

"I thought you were on shift today?" The older man commented, as he swept the walkway.

"No, going camping. I'll be back by Monday. Everyone needs a few days off now and then," Mike responded. He wasn't about to tell his landlord that he was being investigated for arson. In fact, Mike didn't want anyone to know what was happening to him. The quiet engineer preferred to face this challenge the way he often accepted challenges – alone. During fires, he was alone at the pumps while the others were paired up fighting the blaze. He decided he did his best work when he was solitary. Perhaps that was why he hadn't found the right person to share his life with. Maybe it was his destiny to remain single. As he walked down the stairs on his final trip to his truck, his mind turned to Alexia Lopez. He wondered how she was handling her new found freedom. Was she healing, physically and emotionally? At least she wasn't alone. At least she had her family to stand beside her through the darkness during her recovery. Who did Mike have? His parents were aging and lived in Nevada. He didn't want them to know what he was facing. They had always been so proud of his work. He had no siblings, and now… If his shiftmates found out about the investigation, he probably would have no friends left, either. He tossed his backpack onto the seat beside him, cranked up, and drove away, heading for the solitude of a camping spot near Tehachapi.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Roy pulled the squad to a stop near the overturned green sedan. It was lying on its roof, the windows shattered from the crushing impact. It appeared that the driver had over-corrected when she ran off the edge of the road, resulting in a rollover. The two paramedics quickly jumped into action, pulling on their turnouts and gloves. Johnny, being the thinner of the two, immediately began to crawl into the narrow opening of the rear driver's side window to determine if this was a rescue or a recovery. The young driver was crumpled on the roof of the vehicle, her right arm bleeding profusely. Johnny heard her soft moans and immediately began his assessment. Roy began removing equipment he thought would be needed. As Gerald positioned the engine to protect the scene, Chet disembarked and rushed over to the wreckage while Pete jogged over to the squad to help Roy with the equipment.

"Gonna need the jaws, Cap," Chet called out, returning to assist Gerald with the heavy equipment.

Pete set the biophone down, watching as Captain Stanley set it up with practiced ease. "Rampart, this is squad 51…"

Roy set down the black boxes in a clear space between the squad and car, listening to the information being relayed to Dr. Brackett by his captain. "Pete, we're gonna need a blanket," he commented to the lineman. He then ducked his head down enough to see inside the vehicle. "What do you need, Johnny?"

"Ahh, Kerlix and a C-collar," Johnny replied over his shoulder as he turned his attention to his patient. "My name's Johnny. That's my partner Roy I'm talkin' to, out there. We're from the fire department, and we're here to help ya out, a'right?"

"Umm, 'k," came the soft feminine reply.

Roy passed the requested supplies through the window to Johnny. The younger man accepted the C-collar first, explaining his actions to his frightened patient as he secured it to immobilize her neck. He then took the roll of Kerlix and began wrapping it around the gaping cut on her arm while he tried to count her respiration rate.

Johnny felt her trembling beneath his touch and knew he had to calm her down before she began to hyperventilate. "What's your name?"

"Ab-bey," she sniffled.

"Well, Abbey, we're gonna have you outta here in just a few minutes," he replied, nonchalantly.

"You need tape, Johnny?" Roy asked, feeling the broken glass crunching beneath his weight as he kneeled down beside the crumpled vehicle.

"No," Johnny said, lying on his side on the roof of the vehicle. The space around him was cramped with twisted metal poking him at every turn. "I'm just gonna tie it off," he explained, pulling up a strip of gauze to create the loop needed to tie it tightly around the bleeding wound on the driver's forearm. He returned his attention to his whimpering patient, trying to soothe her uneasiness. "Jus' take it easy; everything's gonna be a'right."

"Pete's getting you an asbestos blanket," Roy informed his partner just as Dr. Brackett's voice squawked out of the biophone.

"51, do you have any vitals?"

"Negative, Rampart. Victim is still entrapped. We should have her out in a couple of minutes," Roy reported back, seeing Pete drop an asbestos blanket near his feet then trotting back to the engine to help with the Jaws of Life. Roy set the biophone receiver down, preparing to further assist with the extrication. "Okay, Johnny... Can you reach it?" The senior medic called out as he unfolded the blanket and pushed it through the opening.

"Yea," Johnny responded, feeling the sweat running down his forehead and dripping off his nose as he maneuvered the protective blanket into position. He heard the crying sounds coming from the young woman. "Heeeyyy, it's all gonna be over in just a minute. Now, I'm gonna put this over us in case there's any glass breaking." He covered the sniffling teenager with the blanket, being careful not to put any more pressure on her injured arm than was absolutely necessary.

"It… Hu-hurts…"

"I know, it does. I know it does. My partner and I are gonna take good care of ya just as soon as my friends get us outta here. Now, it's gonna get real loud, but don't be afraid."

"P-please… Don't le-leave me."

Johnny's heart broke when he heard her pleading voice. "I won't, sweetheart. I promise, I won't."

"Hey, Gage?" Chet called out.

"YEA?"

"You ready?"

"Close your eyes, Abbey, and let me and my friends here do all the work," Johnny said softly, curling his body protectively around his victim as best he could.

"Mmmm," Abbey moaned, trembling in fear as she lay awkwardly against the paramedic's chest.

"A'right, Chet… Go ahead!" He called out, feeling the girl flinch when the Jaws of Life were cranked up. "Ssshhh," he soothed, knowing that she couldn't hear his attempts to comfort her. He squeezed his eyes closed, preventing the stinging rivulets of sweat from interfering with his vision.

Chet donned the goggles as he held the extrication equipment in both hands, tensing his muscles as he positioned the equipment into the narrow opening. It tore through the wreckage as if it were nothing more than melted butter. With the popping and creaking of the metal, the opening began to widen. Roy, Hank, and the two replacements watched the drama unfold as the gap opened up until it was wide enough to remove the injured girl.

When Johnny heard the machine cut off, he spoke up. "Okay… Now, we can get you outta this sardine can. A'right, don't move. Remember what I tol' ya. Let us do all the work."

"Johnny," Roy called out, receiving the backboard from Gerald and Pete. He waited for the asbestos blanket to be pulled away from his partner and their patient before he continued. "Here's the backboard."

Johnny glanced at his partner as he accepted one end of the thin board. Neither man needed to speak as they swiftly and carefully transferred their victim onto the backboard, tightening the straps to hold her securely in place. Gerald and Pete positioned themselves on each side, pulling the board out far enough for Roy and Chet to grab the other end. Johnny's arms were quivering from fatigue as he passed Abbey off to his shift mates. "A'right, Abbey, here ya go… Easy, now."

"I got her, John," Hank called out, picking up the weight of the board near the girl's head as the four men carried her away from the carnage, and set her down near the squad.

Roy began speaking softly to his terrified victim. "Abbey, right? How old are you, Abbey?" He asked, repeatedly using her name as a means of calming her anxiety.

"Eigh-teen," she sniffled, squinting into the bright morning sunlight.

Pete stood over her, removing his helmet and using it to cast a shadow over her face, shielding her eyes from the discomfort of the sun.

Chet crawled to the edge of the wreckage, reaching inside the remains of the green sedan. "Need a hand?"

"Yea…," the thin paramedic called out, slapping his ungloved hand into his friend's palm. Johnny felt the strength of their camaraderie as he was helped out of the pile of twisted metal. "Ugh," he groaned, using his feet to push himself out on his back. He felt Chet grab him by the hook on his collar, and pull him the rest of the way out. "Ungh," he grunted, using Chet's assistance to return to a standing position, taking a moment to stretch out his aching back. "Thanks, Pally."

A few feet away, Roy continued his assessment. "Okay, just look at the numbers on my helmet. Does this hurt?" he asked, using his pen light to check her pupillary response.

"No," Abbey said softly. "Just my arm hurts."

Johnny kneeled down beside the biophone, waiting for his partner to call out Abbey's vitals. "Rampart, this is squad 51. How do you read?"

"Loud and clear. Go ahead, 51," Dr. Brackett responded, relieved that his patient had apparently been removed from the damaged vehicle.

In a few minutes the paramedics had their victim stabilized and packaged for transport. Roy climbed in the back of the ambulance for the ride to Rampart with Abbey, while Johnny slid into the squad to follow the departing emergency vehicle. Fortunately, the ride was a short one, and there was no need for Roy to remain with Abbey once he had made the transfer to the hospital staff. He and Johnny quickly restocked their supplies, and climbed back into the squad for the drive back to the station.

Johnny removed the microphone from its cradle. "LA, squad 51 available."

Roy stared straight ahead as he pulled to a stop at the intersection behind Rampart. Even though there was no traffic, he remained stationary prompting a smart aleck remark from Johnny.

"Uh, Roy?"

"Huh?"

Johnny snorted at the vacant look on his partner's face as the older man turned in response to his name. "You forget the way back to the station?"

Roy looked around, realizing that there was no traffic hindering his progress. "Oh… No…," he said, removing his foot from the break and easing out into the street. "I've just been thinking…"

Johnny rolled his eyes, propping his elbow on the window ledge of the squad. "Sounds dangerous."

"I'm being serious, Junior. I know you and Chet are still mad at me about this morning, and… Well, maybe I was wrong. I don't know, but…"

When he didn't continue, Johnny prodded him along. "Yea… You were wrong… But, what?"

Roy licked his lips, suddenly feeling them drying out as his breathing quickened. "Cap said something to me this morning, and I don't think he even realized he said it, but…" He cut his blue eyes over at his partner. "Mike's being investigated."

"INVESTIGATED?" Johnny questioned, raising his voice as he shifted in his seat to get a better look at Roy. "What the hell for?"

"I don't know. All he said was that Mike didn't want any of us to know about it." Roy pulled to a stop at the next light, strumming his fingers nervously along the edge of the steering wheel. "I just can't imagine Stoker being investigated for anything."

"And it's by our own damn department, not the cops, or the IRS… Or…," Johnny spoke up, rubbing his chin. "I mean, he seemed fine until the brass showed up, so…"

"Yea…," Roy mused.

Johnny pressed his lips into a thin line as the light turned green and Roy accelerated. The younger man allowed the breeze to blow his unruly hair in a multitude of directions as he contemplated telling Roy about his conversation with Chet. Deciding that Roy needed to know, he spoke up.

"Um, Chet and I were talking earlier, and he thinks this might be related to Marco's sister."

Roy pulled to a stop in front of the station, backing the squad into place. When he shifted into park, he turned to face his partner. "How so?"

"Because of… I mean, since she's a… Well, at least she was one, but now she isn't, but she was at one time, and…"

Roy shook his head, wondering how Johnny could complicate even the simplest of conversations. "She was a prostitute, Johnny. It's okay to say it."

"I know, I know," Johnny fussed, running a frustrated hand through his hair in an effort to tame it before he had to face his captain. "It's just that… It looks bad that he was involved with her, and… I mean, not involved like INVOLVED, but just involved, ya know?"

"Somehow… Yes, I do know," Roy snickered, still amused at his partner's antics. "But at the hospital that night, I understood Mike and Marco to say that Mike had rescued her from her burning apartment. That he hadn't actually had sexual relations with her or anything. He'd just been trying to help her get out of the business, and then there was the fire, and…"

"C'mon, Roy. You know how the department wants us to have a squeaky clean image. If they got wind of him spending time with a known, um,"

"Prostitute."

"Yea, that… then…"

"Then so much for the squeaky clean image," Roy answered, completing Johnny's fragmented sentence. "But, who would've known? It had to be when we were off shift. That means he wouldn't have been in uniform and he sure wasn't driving the engine… How would headquarters know what he was doing on his off time?"

Johnny stared at the beige dashboard of the squad, dumbfounded. "Humph, I dunno… But it's too much to be a coincidence. Stoker's straight as an arrow. He'd never do anything to embarrass the department or himself. So, what else could it be?"

Roy opened his door, looking over his shoulder at his partner. "I don't know. But saving a young woman in distress is what we did just a little while ago. Why should it be any different when we're off shift and the woman in distress is a prostitute? Their lives are just as valuable as anyone else's."

Johnny's mind flashed back to a time when he had witnessed firsthand one person's life being valued less than another's, and he shivered involuntarily. "Yea…," he mumbled, slamming the squad door shut, ambling toward the kitchen. "Yea…"

E!

Mike made the turn onto the long, narrow dusty road, scrub brush covering the land in all directions. He began his assent along the winding road headed for the upper level of the small mountain range. Johnny had shown him this particular spot a couple of years earlier when the two of them had been camping. Its primary feature was a large oak tree surrounded by various species of evergreens. The old tree appeared to be a sentinel guarding the land and all who found refuge beneath its branches.

That thought sent his mind reeling back to Alexia Lopez. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the young woman out of his mind. Now, he wondered if perhaps he was going to be uprooted by the fire department for trying to be her protector, her sentinel guard. He wondered how she was doing, wishing he could've talked to her before his visit from the Fire Marshall and arson investigator. His last image of her crying in pain, lashing out against her own brother in fear, had haunted him day and night for the last week. He needed to see her healing, recovering, maybe even smiling. But mostly, he just wanted to see her, talk to her, and help her understand that not all men treated women the way she had been treated. He wanted her to know what it was like to have a casual and friendly relationship with a man who wouldn't strike her, threaten her, or abuse her; a man who wouldn't push a few dollars her way in exchange for a disgusting sex act performed in some filthy back alley or dirty hotel room. He wanted her to feel the warmth of a real man's protective embrace, instead of the cold reality of the harsh life she had been living on the streets.

Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes, causing his pick-up to careen sideways as it rumbled to a stop. He looked around at the dust cloud as the wind blew it away from the front of his vehicle. As his vision cleared, so did his mind. He wanted to see Alexia for another reason, too. A reason he was only now beginning to see, and still wasn't able to understand. During the weeks he had spent trying to help her, even though he knew all about her past and what she had done to survive during those years away from home, it had still happened. He had fallen in love with her.

E!

By the time the evening meal was served, Alexia had said goodbye to her mother and brother. She had set her few belongings in the chest of drawers near her twin bed, placing Antonio's pictures on top so he would be the first person she saw in the morning and the last person she saw at night. He was the reason she was here, and she was determined to do whatever it took to return to him.

"Have you seen him, yet?"

Alexia looked across the table at Bri. She shook her head in response to her roommate's question. "No… Maybe in a day or two I'll be able to meet him." She watched as the other ladies took their seats around the table. The meal was served like a family dinner. The food was arranged in the center of the table and everyone sitting around it held out their hands. At first, Alexia didn't understand, but the memories of growing up in a large family came back quickly. She extended her own hands, gently grasping the hands of those on either side of her. Together they bowed their heads. It was Cha-Cha's turn to say grace. When the prayer ended, she felt the gentle squeeze of her hands by the others and swiftly returned the gesture. Soon, the food was being passed around the table, everyone enjoying the meal and the fellowship with each other. The founders of The Wellhouse understood the need for the women to learn to trust again, and they knew that each one did so at her own pace. There was no pressure, no forced religious studies, but the hope and the promise of a new life surrounded the six ladies who now called this small house home. It would wrap around them like a warm blanket, and curl up protectively beside them as they lay alone in their beds at night. They were safe, secure, protected, fed and sheltered, and for the first time in a very long time, they were not alone in their fight against the evil in the world. They had each other from whom to draw strength and courage, and to dry their tears when the nightmares seemed so real. Helping the new ladies navigate their way through the treacherous minefield of leaving their pimps, was one of the best ways for the older residents to heal themselves. It gave them a sense of pride and purpose. They could speak to each other about things that no one else understood. They were a sisterhood, born out of the devil's loins, made stronger by the test of fire, and better able to face whatever their future may hold for them.

Alexia ate her food in silence, listening to the chatter going on around her. This was real life. This was how things were supposed to be. This was what she wanted for the rest of her days. She wanted to feel like she belonged. She wanted to return to her family, to be a mother to her son, and… She wanted to know what it felt like to truly be an investment, not just a cheap rental.

E!

As darkness fell upon Station 51, Chet squirmed restlessly in his seat. His mind was a whirlwind. Johnny and Roy had asked to speak to him privately in the dorm, but the squad had been toned out before they were able to have their discussion. He knew it was about Mike and based on the way Johnny and Roy were interacting, Roy had to have changed his mind about the situation. Maybe he had even agreed to help Chet and Johnny figure out what was wrong and try to fix it. The young lineman picked at the ends of his mustache as the others settled down to watch a movie. He didn't expect the squad to return for at least half an hour which would give him plenty of time to do what he had to do. He kept looking at the clock, wanting the time to pass by quickly, and yet, not wanting to know the answer to the question he had planned to ask during a man to man phone call. What would he do if his request was rejected?

As soon as the popcorn bowl passed by him, he stood up. "Hey, Cap?"

"Sit down, Kelly. The movie's just starting," Hank ordered in his most paternal sounding voice.

"I need to make a personal phone call. Mind if I use your office?"

Hank cut his eyes at the young lineman. "Why can't you use the one in the dorm, you twit? None of us care what you say to Caroline."

"No, sir. It isn't Caroline I'm calling. It's a long distance call, but I'll charge it to my house phone. Please, Cap?" Chet pleaded, shoving his hands into his pockets like a scolded little boy.

The opening credits rolled across the screen, pulling Hank's hazel eyes back to the television set. "Oh, go ahead. Just don't be too long."

"No, sir. I won't. Thanks, Cap," he said appreciatively. He quickly pushed through the dayroom door and rushed to the captain's office. He had to do this now before he chickened out. He closed the door, then sat down at the desk, fishing the small piece of paper from his shirt pocket. After making payment arrangements with the operator, he leaned forward with his elbow on the desk, his right leg bouncing uncontrollably as the phone began to ring on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Um, uh, hi, Mrs. Marks. This is Chet, is…"

"Ohmygod, is something wrong? What's wrong with our girls?" Mim asked in a panicky voice. It had been over a year and a half since she'd received the news of the accident that nearly claimed the life of her only grandchild and her daughter-in-law, yet time had not softened the pain of her near loss.

Chet silently chastised himself for faltering in his opening remarks. "Oh, no ma'am, nothing's wrong. Both Caroline and Corrie are just fine. They're at home now. I'm on shift. I just, ah… I was wonderin' if maybe… Well, is Mr. Marks available?" He stammered, shifting nervously in his seat.

"Oh… Yes, just a moment please," she said softly, covering up the receiver to call for her husband.

Chet ran his fingers over his sweat-laden brow. He felt his stomach churn as he heard a deep voice in the background, although the words sounded muffled with the receiver covered by Mim's hand.

"Yes, Chester? This is Gregory. What's going on?"

Chet wasn't sure, but he thought he heard Mim's voice whispering harshly at her husband. He heard Greg clear his throat, softening the tone of his voice.

"Ah, is there something I can help you with, Chet?" The older man asked, his voice much more gentle after his ribs sustained a poke from his wife's pointed elbow.

"Ah, yessir, well, see. I–I'd really rather do this in person, but you're up in Fresno and I'm here in LA and there's just no way that I could get up there, especially since I'm on shift and all…"

Greg rolled his eyes, covering his mouth with his free hand to keep from laughing into the phone. He really enjoyed making Chet nervous, and he was able to do it without even really trying. He had hoped that a little healthy fear might be a good thing for Chet's relationship with Caroline. He had to admit that he hated the heartache he felt when he had first met Chet. The younger man had been sitting on the floor with Corrie in his lap playing with her on her birthday. It had broken his heart as he thought of how his own son should have been playing with his daughter instead of lying in a cold, dark grave, a casualty of the Vietnam War. He was brought back to the telephone conversation when Chet finally began to speak in complete sentences.

"Anyway, I just… I know this is kinda old fashioned and all, but… See, Mr. Marks…"

"Greg."

"Um, yea, Greg. Anyway, Greg, I just wanted to tell you that I know you think of Caroline as your daughter and all, and I know that Corrie is your granddaughter and, and…"

"Chet…," Greg grinned as he spoke. "I'm fully aware of my relationship to them. Is there something you're trying to ask me?" Greg could tell by the nervousness in the young man's voice that he had something serious on his mind. He and Mim had already discussed the possibility and both agreed that it would make them happy if it happened.

"Uh, yessir, see… I really do love Caroline and Corrie, and I know I'm just a public servant, and I know it's a dangerous job and all, but I'm really careful, and I know I don't make much money, but I'm studying for the engineer's exam and that would improve my paycheck, and…"

"Chet?"

"And, I'll do my best to take good care of them, and I'll provide…"

"CHESTER!"

"Oh, um, y-yessir?"

"If you're asking for our blessing, then I can save you the trouble. You already have our approval and blessing, even though you and Caroline are both adults and you don't need it. Mim and I appreciate the gesture more than you could ever possibly know," Greg said, smiling as he wrapped his arm around his loving wife. "So, I think you need to be talking to Caroline about this. Am I right?"

Chet released a loud sigh of relief into the phone. He was elated by what he had just been told. He jumped up from the chair, the sudden movement jerking the handset out of his hand in the process. It crashed to the desk then fell onto the floor, with Chet following close behind trying to catch it. "Oh, um, sorry sir, I dropped the phone and… I… Thank you, sir…"

"Greg," the older man snickered.

"Greg," Chet exclaimed, his smile stretching across his face. "Thank you Greg, and please tell Mim I said thanks to her, too."

"You take care of our girls, alright?"

"Yes. Sir," Chet proclaimed proudly.

"And be sure to let us know when the big event will be." Secretly, Greg hoped that he would be asked to participate as Caroline's father, even though he wasn't her biological father. That thought gripped his heart twisting it. He had been so hard on Chet this whole time, and yet, his own relationship with Caroline would be exactly like Chet's might be with Corrie. Greg loved Caroline as if she were his own flesh and blood. Now, he fully believed that his granddaughter would soon have a healthy relationship with a wonderful father figure in her own life.

"Yessir, we will…. Um…" The young Irishman suddenly felt his mouth go dry once more. "Ah… Ugh."

"Is there a problem, Chet?" Greg asked, his voice laced with concern at the sound of Chet's downtrodden groaning.

"Yea… Maybe… I mean, what if she says no?"

"Well, young man…," Greg continued, doing nothing to lower Chet's anxiety level. "I guess you'll just have to ask yourself if she's worth the risk."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful support you've given me with this story and series. I appreciate your comments so much. They keep my muse inspired.

Chapter 5

Mike stretched his legs out beside the crackling flames, leaning his back against his rolled up sleeping bag. He surveyed his fire ring, created from the generous supply of indigenous stones in the area, sighing satisfyingly at the barrier he'd created to avert disaster. Lacing his fingers together behind his head, he closed his eyes and listened as a gentle evening breeze rustled the leaves of the black oak canopy above him. The scent of the smoke emitted by his small camp fire reminded him of his profession – a profession that might quickly be turning to ashes. The memory of his encounter with Assistant Chief Hunley and Investigator Bennett in Hank's office made his stomach lurch. He felt like he was being punished when he had only tried to do something good, something noble. Hunley and Bennett were wrong about him. Mike Stoker had never committed an act of arson, and furthermore, he never would. He tried to imagine the mindset of an arsonist. Yet, his mind wouldn't allow him to venture into those dark areas. Arson was a crime; it had killed civilians and firefighters during his tenure with the fire service. Now, he was being accused of doing the very thing he so despised. He tasted the bile that was rising in the back of his throat, felt the tickling sensation of the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he contemplated the accusations. A mixture of molten fear and anger poured down his backbone, forming a burning steel rod, stiffening his spine. He shifted his position, sitting up again and staring into the glowing embers, shuttering involuntarily as the same tickling feeling from his neck suddenly ran across the back of his hand.

"Shit!" He grunted, seeing the large wolf spider skittering across his skin. He knew it was harmless, but it was big, ugly, and scary for those who didn't understand them. He shook his hand, dislodging the unwelcomed guest. The creature scrambled into the darkness, leaving behind the glowing embers it instinctively knew were harmful.

"Smart fellow," Mike huffed. "If you feel the heat, run!" His own words slapped him harshly. Is that what he was doing? Was he spending the night in the wilderness in order to get away from the heat of the investigation? Was his own ego so inflated that he didn't want his friends to know what was going on? Was he running away from them as much as he was running away from the accusations?

He picked up his coffee cup, tossing the cold content onto the coals, hearing the sizzling sound as the liquid quickly vaporized. "Come on Stoker, man up," he commented out loud, battling the war raging within his own psyche. Deep down, he knew that the A-shift at Station 51 were as close as brothers, maybe closer. They had to be, in order to keep each other safe while on shift. They had seen each other at their best and at their worst. They were there for each other, through thick and thin… At least, until now. He had been there for Chet when he questioned his own paternity, and Hank when he had been in the depths of depression from the loss of the young fireman under his command. He had been there for Roy when he and Joanne had been on the verge of divorce, and he had been there for Marco when his sister needed saving. But one question lingered amid the clearing smoke from his dying camp fire, the symbol of the demise of his fire service career: would those same men be there for him when they found out about the accusations against him?

E!

Johnny shifted in his bunk, his mind unable to relax after the busy shift they were having. He lay on his back staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft snores of the others in the dorm. He craned his neck to his left, seeing Roy curled onto his side sleeping soundly. He leaned up on his elbows, glancing across the room at his sleeping shift mates. Pete was on his stomach, one arm hanging over the edge of the bed. Chet, whose face was illuminated by the streetlight from the window across the room, appeared to be having a very pleasant dream. His face was frozen in a silly grin, leaving Johnny wondering if perhaps Caroline was joining him in his dream world.

Johnny shook his shaggy head, swinging his legs over the side of his bunk. He had experienced sleepless nights before, when his mind simply couldn't let go of something. Tonight was no different. He exhaled, rubbing his eye sockets with the heels of his hands. Stepping into his bunkers, he walked quietly toward the dorm door, hoping that a glass of milk might help him sleep. As he pulled his red suspenders onto his narrow shoulders, he glanced to his left. The empty captain's bunk made him knit his eyebrows in suspicion.

Pushing through the dorm doorway, he made his way around the front of the emergency vehicles, noticing that the light was on in Hank's office. He glanced at his watch, stunned that it was already three in the morning. Obviously, Hank hadn't been to bed. He pressed his lips together, contemplating whether he should knock, or not. He suspected that his captain was as worried about Mike as the rest of the crew were, but there was only one way to find out. He inhaled deeply, then lightly knocked on the closed door.

Hank sat staring at the log book, papers scattered across his desk. His eyes were bloodshot and burning from fatigue and weariness. Suddenly, the soft knocking sound he heard startled him from his study. He rubbed his eyes with his hands, glancing at the clock and clearing his throat before he responded.

"Ahem… Come in."

Slowly, Johnny opened the door, peeking his head inside. "Uh, Cap? Ya got a minute?"

"Sure, John. Have a seat," the exhausted captain said in a husky voice, gesturing at the empty chair beside his desk. "Can't sleep?"

"Nu-uh," Johnny answered, plopping down in the chair. "We've had a busy shift, but I'm assumin' you aren't just in here catchin' up on the log book."

Hank eyed his paramedic suspiciously. "Accurate assumption." He leaned back, propping one elbow on the chair arm. "I guess we're both worried about the same thing."

Johnny looked down at his fingers, intertwining them in his lap. "How can we help Mike, Cap?"

Hank snickered nervously, running his hand through his dark hair. "You don't mince words, do you?"

Johnny bit his lower lip, inhaling as he looked up at his superior. "I know you said Mike doesn't want any of us to know what's goin' on, but if he's in trouble for helpin' out Marco's sister, then… Then none of us are safe from headquarters."

Hank began to push the papers into a folder. He didn't want Johnny to see which papers he had been reviewing. He thought about his in-depth conversation with Marco when the lineman had requested extended leave. Finding out that Marco had a sister who was a prostitute had been quite a shock, but finding out the others in the crew also knew about her gave him a bit of relief. Yet, he had never considered what the other men might think about Mike's involvement with her. "John… Why do you think this has anything to do with Marco's sister?"

"Because I know what kind of image they want from us. And I know that I kinda push the limits at times, but…" Johnny hesitated, trying to tamp down the impending rant. "But Stoker's never done anything… ANYTHING wrong, Cap. All he did was try to help…. No, he DID help out a young woman who was in danger, and all of a sudden he's bein' investigated!" Johnny's arms were flinging wildly as he emphasized his words.

Hank narrowed his eyes at his junior paramedic. "Who told you he was being investigated?"

"Da-um, ah…," Johnny stammered, his Adam's apple bobbing beneath his dropped chin as he gulped.

"Who, John?" Hank's patience was wearing thin.

"Uh, R-Roy… He said you mentioned it yesterday," Johnny answered nervously.

Hank closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair, and sighing. "Aarrgh… Damn it."

"Why? Why is the brass after Mike for helpin' her? He only did what we all do every shift, for cryin' out loud!"

Hank's exhaustion and frustration finally got the best of him. As much as he hated to do it, he knew he needed to go against Mike's wishes. "John… He isn't being investigated for helping Marco's sister."

"Then why? What's goin' on, Cap?"

"I-I really don't want to get into this right now. Let's wait until after shift. You, Roy, Chet and I can go eat breakfast. I'll tell all of you about it then. I just hope Mike will forgive me." He looked at his paramedic with pleading eyes. "I don't want to have to tell this but once... And it's as much about ME as it is Mike."

E!

Alexia rolled over in bed, unable to sleep. This was her first night out of the hospital, a place where she knew she was safe. Now, she wasn't so sure. She looked over at her sleeping roommate. Bri looked peaceful, a thought that made Alexia smile. It was the first time she could ever remember her friend looking serene and unstressed since they had first met after Bri's assault. The irony of the situation hit Alexia full force. Bri was assaulted and her apartment was torched which is how she became Alexia's roommate. Now, Alexia had been assaulted and her apartment set on fire which resulted in her becoming Bri's roommate, once again. 'You just can't make this stuff up,' she mused, silently.

She thought about her last memories of the night Ricardo had paid her a visit. Amid the pain, she recalled looking out her window and seeing Michael's truck pull to a stop outside of her apartment building. Had he been the one who saved her from certain death? She couldn't remember anything about her rescue, and for some reason it had never occurred to her to ask. So much had happened after she woke up in the hospital. Her counselor, Beverly, had stayed with her for several hours. Her family had visited her and forgiven her for the mistakes she had made in the past, refusing to hold them against her. She had healed enough to be released from Rampart General Hospital and sent to live at The Wellhouse for a couple of weeks in preparation for her eventual return home. She thought of all the things Michael had done for her during the weeks leading up to that fateful night. She had almost started to believe that he actually cared about her. Now, as she lay in bed thinking about him, she couldn't help but wonder… If he really cared about what happened to her, then why hadn't he visited her? The answer was obvious. He didn't really care. She was just a street walker to him. But why did he spend so much time and money helping her, refusing her services, if he didn't care? What kind of man would do that? She had no answers for the questions she kept asking herself. Instead of torturing her mind further, she decided to turn to more pleasant thoughts.

She returned to her supine position, rolling her head to the left and staring at the picture of her son that she had placed on her small chest of drawers. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine what he might say when they finally met. Would he reject her? That was what she deserved for abandoning him. Would he speak to her or would he shy away? After all, she would be a complete stranger to him. Her thoughts about her son caused her heart to beat faster, her eyes to burn, and her respiration rate to increase. She began to force her breathing to slow down, hoping her heart rate would decrease, as well. The tears she would simply have to deal with, as she had been unable to find a way to stop them once they started flowing. She sniffled, using her comforter to dry her eyes.

"The first night's the worst," Bri whispered.

Alexia gasped, angry at herself for waking up her friend. "I-I'm sorry, Bri. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's alright. I'm not used to sleeping through the night, anyway. I'm still having nightmares…." She let her voice fade away as she rolled over to face Alexia. "I guess I always will."

"Yea… I understand," Alexia responded. Her statement was meant for her friend, but she needed to hear herself say it. It had another meaning for her. She understood why everyone had insisted she come here before going home. Because only those who had actually lived the life of a trafficked sex worker could truly understand what she was feeling. She needed to spend time with those who understood her and what she was going through. They would help make her well enough to go home.

"We're safe here, Lex. I know we are, but… But, I still pray sometimes. I don't know if the man upstairs listens to somebody like me, but I keep asking Him to keep Ricardo away."

Praying. That's what Alexia had been missing. "He listens. I'm proof of that. I'll join you in those prayers, Bri."

As Alexia said the words, she was filled with recrimination. She had what she needed to chase away the insomnia and fear. She sat up, opening the top drawer beside her. She withdrew the small black box her mother had entrusted her with when they had left the hospital. She opened it, removing the rosary beads. Clutching them within her fingers, she began to silently pray. When the peace she so desperately sought enveloped her, she slipped into a quiet slumber.

E!

The early morning sun woke Mike as he lay sleeping in his tent. The weather was still warm, even though it was early fall. He peeled open his eyes, peeking out of his tent flap. The day was a beautiful one. He had decided to go for a hike, hoping the exercise would help him develop his action plan for refuting the accusations against him. If all went well, he would pack up his camp site late this afternoon and head back to Carson a day early. If he was brave enough to run into burning buildings, then surely he could stand up to the department bullies.

Standing and stretching, he loosened up his stiff joints. Sleeping on the ground was something he hadn't done in a couple of years and he could definitely feel it. As soon as he could move around without discomfort, he opened his ice chest, removing the supplies he would need to make breakfast. As the fire was beginning to find new life, he scrambled a couple of eggs and pulled a few strips of bacon from the package. He loved the smell of breakfast being cooked on a camp fire. He inhaled the scent deeply, wishing he could somehow capture it and store it for later enjoyment. As the breakfast sizzled, he started making his coffee. He was going to need caffeine in order to hike the trail he had planned to conquer.

As soon as he finished eating and cleaning up, he made certain his fire was out. He packed up a few items, making sure he carried plenty of water in his backpack, and headed off for his hike. Normally, this was something he did with a friend, primarily for safety reasons. His mind niggled him with the reminder that no one even knew where he was camping. If he ran into trouble out here, he would die long before anyone would find him. "Face your fears, Stoker. If you can do this, then you can face those sons of bitches who're out to get you," he voiced through gritted teeth as he stomped off for the trailhead. He needed to prove to himself that he could manage this challenge, because he knew that an even bigger challenge lay ahead of him.

E!

Hank turned into the parking lot of The Pourhouse, wishing he hadn't confirmed to Johnny that Mike was being investigated. Now, he felt torn between being honest with his men and keeping the promise he made to Mike. He got out of his black sedan, standing up to his full height and stretching his back. He could feel the puffiness beneath his eyes from lack of sleep. He knew he could catch up with his sleep after he told the crew what was happening.

"Good morning," Amy called out, happy to see so many of her favorite firemen walking into the diner at once.

"Good morning, Amy," Hank said with a friendly smile. "Is the private room available this morning? We've got some, uh, station business to tend to over breakfast."

"You betcha," she confirmed with an understanding look on her face. "C'mon… This way, fellas." She picked up four menus, even though she knew she wouldn't need them, and walked toward the back of the facility. As soon as she seated the firemen at their table, she began to apologize. "I gotta warn you. I'm here alone since it's Sunday morning so if you need something you may have to come and get me."

"What about Gretchen?" Chet asked innocently, unaware of just how close Roy had come to crossing a line with the newest waitress. "Oomph," he bellowed when Johnny elbowed him.

"Oh, she's joined some new church or group or something. She isn't allowed to work on Sundays anymore. So, she pulls a double shift on Mondays and I get the whole day off," Amy replied, turning over the coffee cups. She removed the pencil that was stationed behind her ear and pressed it to her order pad. "Alright, is everyone having their usual?"

The four men chuckled in unison as they closed up the menus.

"You know us so well," Johnny said, offering her his most flirtatious lopsided grin.

"A woman knows how to please her men," she said with a wink, giggling when she saw the blush running up from Johnny's neck, coloring his face. "I'll be right back with your coffees," she spouted off to the group. "And a glass of milk for the growing boy."

The men made small talk until they were served their breakfast. Amy was considerate and as soon as she left the room, she closed the door. She knew that if four of the six men from A-shift were discussing something over breakfast, it was something serious and private.

Hank watched over his shoulder as Amy exited, grateful when she ensured their privacy. He turned back around, sipping his coffee and taking a bite of his scrambled eggs, feeling three sets of eye staring at him. "Alright… Here's the story, and I sure hope you can help me win Mike's trust back. Because after this, he might never have faith in me again."

"Cap, Stoker's a reasonable guy. Besides, we aren't exactly strangers and this isn't idle office gossip. We just want to make sure he's okay," Roy stated, knowing he was speaking for the other two.

Hank inhaled deeply, exhaling a cleansing breath before he began. "The two men in my office were Assistant Chief Leonard Hunley and Sam Bennett, his new arson investigator." Before Hank could continue, Chet's eyes widened.

"Are you freakin' kiddin' me?"

"No, I'm not. Hunley and Bennett are investigating Mike, but not because he was spending time with a prostitute," Hank began.

Johnny and Chet exchanged knowing looks. They both understood what Hank was trying to tell them. "Are you tellin' us that the department thinks Mike started the fire in Alexia's apartment that night?" Johnny asked, tapping his middle finger on the table for emphasis.

"Among others, yes," Hank confirmed.

"Others? What others? And why would they think he did it when HE was the one who got her out?" Roy questioned, unable to accept what he was hearing.

"Well, to answer your first question, they're questioning him on three other fires. Remember the run we had where the pregnant lady had been beaten and her apartment set on fire?"

"Yes," Roy stated.

"They're considering him to have behaved suspiciously at that one. He claims he saw a tall slender man leaving the premises wearing a gray jacket with a hood. The call came in right after shift change so he would've had time to assault the woman, set the blaze, and then come to work. It's the perfect alibi since he was one of the responders."

Johnny glared at his supervisor. "You sound like you believe them. That's bullshit!"

"No, John, I don't believe them. I'm just telling you what they told Mike and me. Now, on another night, not long after that, Mike called in a report of a fire at a gas station. He was, uh, with Alexia that night. He used an old jacket to try to put out the fire, but ended up having to call it in. Anyway, in all the confusion, he left his jacket there. It was gray with a hood."

"So? I have a gray jacket with a hood, too, Cap," Chet spoke up. "That doesn't mean anything except that Stoker was in the right place at the right time."

"But you aren't tall and slender," Roy chimed in, understanding where Hank was going with the story.

"Thanks a lot, DeSoto," Chet said, rolling his eyes in disgust.

"He's right, Chet. When you put those two together, it looks like Mike was basically describing himself from the first fire."

"So it's only two?" Johnny questioned, his stomach twisting into knots. He thought he knew the answer to his own question.

"No… One afternoon a few weeks later, Mike and Marco were driving out to see if they could find Alexia in the neighborhood where she was living, when they noticed an old abandoned warehouse with smoke coming out of the back of it."

"But Marco was with him!" Johnny stated emphatically.

"I know… Again, they think he could've set the fire then gone to pick up Marco so that he'd have an alibi." Hank hated the way he was sounding just by explaining it to his men.

"Usin' some delayed ignition or somethin'?"

"That's right, Gage. I know it sounds like a stretch, but just try to look at it from their point of view," Hank commented.

"Then how do they explain the apartment fire when he rescued Alexia, huh?" Johnny asked, leaning back in his seat, his facial expression dripping in sarcasm.

"Mike called Lieutenant Crockett to meet him at the apartment complex. Crockett got there before Mike, and even commented to Hunley and Bennett that Mike was a few minutes late arriving. We all know that Mike is NEVER late for anything, which is something Hunley and Bennett also knew just from talking to Mike. He had told Crockett that he had a friend who was involved in some illegal activity and needed help. As soon as Mike drove up, he jumped out of his truck calling for Crockett to call in the fire, and then Mike raced in to evacuate the building."

"Exactly what any of us would've done, including you, Cap." Roy sat staring at his superior, hating the thoughts that were going through his mind.

"I know, Roy. Hunley and Bennett have this idea that Mike has grown tired of you fellas getting all the accolades while he handles the pumps. They think he's missing the action so he's creating a little excitement for himself." Hank hesitated which did not go unnoticed by his keen senior medic.

"There's still more to this, isn't there? There's something you aren't telling us," Roy questioned, his blue eyes penetrating his captain's soul.

Hank grimaced, wishing for once that Roy wasn't so good at reading people. He looked down at the remains of his breakfast, wishing there was an easier way to say what needed to be said. "They also think that he might've beaten the woman in the first fire."

"WHAT?" The three men cried out in unison.

"Stoker wouldn't hurt anyone, especially not a pregnant woman!" Johnny said, his face red with anger.

"Don't you think I know that, John?"

"Well, you sure as hell must not, 'cause you're sittin' here and sayin' it like it's true," the younger man spat back, immediately regretting it when he saw the hurt expression on his captain's face.

"Since he had been, ah… Spending time with a known prostitute, they're wondering if maybe the victim was pregnant with his child." There, he had provided his men with the worst of what had been suggested by Hunley and Bennett. "But, Mike doesn't know about their suspicions about the pregnant woman."

"Why the hell not? He ought to know when he's being thrown under the god damn bus!" Chet tossed out. "How can they sit there and accuse him of such things? What'd he ever do to deserve this, huh?" Chet continued, asking his questions of Hank.

Hank pressed his lips into a thin line. He looked at all three men before speaking. "Mike didn't do anything to deserve it. This has more to do with me than it does Mike."

"Yea, right. I don't see you on administrative leave, bein' investigated for some bullshit!" Johnny argued.

"That's because the incident that I think started this whole thing happened eighteen years ago," Hank explained.

"Whadda ya mean, Cap?" Johnny asked, narrowing his eyes at his captain.

Hank looked at his men, wondering if he was making the right decision. He saw sincerity in their eyes, and knew that they trusted him with their lives on every shift. He needed to let them know that he trusted them, too. "Alright… If I tell you what I think got this whole thing started, will you promise me to keep it to yourselves?"

Hank waited as the three younger men looked at each other. He didn't continue until he got confirmation from each of them that what he was about to say would remain confidential.

"Okay, I had just graduated from the academy, and I got sent to work at 15's. Leonard Hunley was a lineman there. He was a pompous ass back then, and he's even worse now. Anyway, he had this beautiful fiancée. She was so sweet and kind, but he treated her like… Well, like shit. He'd belittle her in public, and make obscene comments about her around the other guys at the station. He was demanding, and… Well, I saw him raise his hand at her once. He didn't hit her, but she flinched. It was sickening to me. I mean, I was single and… And wishing I had a girlfriend like her, you know? There he was, biggest asshole in the whole damn department and HE had a fiancée." Hanks' eyes began to glass over with the memories.

The three firemen looked at each other, confused by Hank's comments about Hunley's fiancée. "I don't understand what this has to do with Mike," Chet finally spoke up.

Hank looked over at the younger man. He smiled briefly, then allowed his eyes to shift out of focus as he stared into the nothingness between them. "I used to go to bars back then. I've never been a heavy drinker, but it was something to do. Anyway, I saw him several different times, always with a different girl on his arm. I couldn't believe it. I knew what kind of women they were, and I just couldn't believe he would do that to Becky!"

"Uh-oh… They weren't… Um," Johnny stumbled over his words.

"They were prostitutes, weren't they?" Roy asked, cutting his eyes at Johnny for not using the word.

"I don't know if there was money exchanged, but they were certainly willing to do the deeds. All I could think about was how this poor innocent woman had no idea what her future husband was doing and… And how he might be taking some venereal disease home to her. She didn't deserve that. No one does, but especially not her."

"Don't tell me you told her about him?" Chet asked.

"I did… And I confronted Hunley about his extracurricular activities," Hank boasted, proudly.

"Damn, Cap. You must have balls of steel!"

Hank chuckled at Chet's analogy. "No, I don't. And he would've beaten me to death with a pool stick the next time he saw me at the bar, except he was too drunk to figure out which one of me to take a swing at."

"So what happened to his fiancée?" Roy asked, still wondering what this had to do with Mike and Alexia.

Hank picked up his coffee cup, grinning from behind it as he looked at the three men from his crew. "She was heart-broken for a while. I mean, she knew he really wasn't husband material, but she had accepted his proposal, and she wasn't the kind of woman to go back on her word, even if it meant she would be mistreated for the rest of her life. She was loyal and devoted."

"So you think Hunley is out to get Mike as a way of somehow paying you back for breaking up his engagement?" Johnny questioned, still trying to put the pieces together in his mind.

"Yes. I think that when he saw that Mike had been in a compromising situation - the gas station in the company of a prostitute - Hunley realized that he could focus on Mike – my engineer – and try to embarrass me the way I embarrassed him all those years ago. Now, I admit, that he and Bennett are making a lot of assumptions in order to piece this thing together in a way that would implicate Stoker, but I believe that's what he's doing. Even if Mike isn't found guilty – and let me be clear, Mike Stoker is innocent until proven guilty - Hunley has still accomplished what he set out to do. He's tarnished the sparkling reputation of a member of my crew, and possibly placed enough doubt in the minds of the HQ brass about my leadership skills to keep me from ever getting promoted to a Chief's position."

"Sonofabitch," Johnny mused. "This sounds more like Payton Place than the Los Angeles County Fire Department."

"Hunley is just pure evil," Roy added. "I'm glad you told that lady about him. She…," Roy drew his eyebrows together. "What was her name again?"

"Becky," Hank snickered.

"Well, Becky should be glad you told her. I'm sure she was upset at first, but hopefully, she's over Hunley and maybe she even found a nice guy to marry instead," Roy stated, looking over at the red tint on his captain's face.

"He didn't treat her well, so she left him. Happens all the time. I'm sure you weren't the only person who told her that the man she was engaged to was a total jerk," Johnny announced, stating the obvious. "I mean, it does make sense that he'd be really pissed off at you, but damn… If it's been that long ago, why is he still so bitter about it? Why would he try to destroy Stoker to get back at you for something that happened when you were just a boot?"

"Humph," Hank snorted, knowing that what he was about to say might shock them to their very core. "Because… I married her."

"Ohmygod!" Chet nearly shouted. "Do you mean your Becca is his Becky?"

"Yep… One and the same, fellas. And Hunley has hated me ever since." Hank withdrew his wallet from his back pocket. He pulled out a few bills, leaving them on the table. "Let me say this one last time. Firefighter Specialist Michael Stoker is no arsonist. He's at home right now, because of something I did a long time ago. If nothing had ever gone down between me and Hunley, then Mike would've been questioned, for clarification, and to see if he had any information about who the arsonist might be, and that would have been the end of it. But Hunley is using his puppet, Bennett, to cause more problems for Mike." Hank stood up, taking one last sip of his coffee. "And I won't stand for it. I won't let Mike's reputation be damaged because of a man like Leonard Hunley. I'll take Hunley down myself, first."

E!

The day had been a long one, and by the time Mike returned to his base camp, he had found the courage he needed to fight back against the department. He loaded up his supplies on the back of his pick-up truck, triple checked to make sure there was nothing left at the site, then climbed in behind the wheel. As the sun began to set behind the mountains, he pulled away from his camp site, leaving behind his depression and sadness. He had taken control of his anger, and was transforming it into wisdom and confidence. He would face the department brass at his hearing, and he would do whatever it took to prove his innocence… Almost anything, that is. He decided that the one thing he would NOT do was to further harm the young woman whose rescue seemed to have started this downward spiral.

Mike had tried to assess his feelings for Alexia, but was struggling to put them into perspective. Was he simply enamored with her because he had saved her life? The feeling he got from removing her from danger was a rush like none he had felt since becoming an engineer. Was that all this was? Was his heart reacting to an adrenaline rush, or was it something more, something deeper?

In the distance, two eyes had been watching his every move. With a springing action, a series of events began to unfold that would bring Mike Stoker face to face with a brutal reality. As he headed for home along the narrow dusty road, he had no idea of the danger that awaited him around the next turn.


	6. Chapter 6

Warnings: Strong language and animal death.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reading and following this saga. I especially want to thank the guest reviewers as this is the only way for me to do so.

Chapter 6

Iris Campbell sat at her kitchen table, leafing through pages of photographs taken during her cross country excursion over a decade ago. She ran her fingers across the plastic which was protecting the small squares of memories. They were so young back then. She closed her eyes, remembering the sights and sounds of the trip. The music they listened to, the songs they sang together. She and her daughter had always been close, but the memories of all that had happened during that spring were still as clear as crystal. She and her young daughter had decided to pick up the young hitchhiker along the way. Looking back on it now, she realized just how dangerous the idea had been. However, he had turned out to be a very nice young man. As they had traveled together, the three of them had bonded, as if they had always been meant to be together, as if they had known each other for years instead of hours.

She looked up at the wall clock, perplexed as to why she had been unable to reach John Gage all day. She had made multiple telephone calls, but never got an answer. Deciding to try again, she stood up and walked over to the black phone hanging on the wall of her kitchen. She leaned against the bar as she heard the ringing begin on the other end of the line. When a male voice answered, she was startled.

"Oh, uh, Thorn?"

"This is the Gage residence," Johnny corrected, not recognizing Iris' voice.

"Yes, sorry about that, John. I keep forgetting to call you by your name. I, uh, I really need to talk to you when you have time," Iris stated softly. "I… I may have an idea of where she is."

"Seriously?" Johnny questioned. He shivered, unsure if it was from the coolness of his apartment and his current state of undress, or if it was the thought of finding someone he had once been so close to. He wrapped his free arm around his naked torso and sat down on his bed, staring at his bare feet protruding from his faded jeans. He had been undressing preparing to shower when the telephone rang.

"Yes. Um, can you come by the shop in the next day or so? I'd like to show you an invoice I got recently from my new supplier."

Johnny listened to the sound of desperation in Iris' voice. He ran a hand through his hair. "Uh, yea… Sure... I'll see you one day this week." Johnny knew Iris' wanted him to come by as soon as he could, but right now, his focus was on Mike's investigation. He felt torn between helping out the friend he knew was in trouble, and helping out the one who may be too far gone to reach, if Iris' hunch was right.

"Thank you. I-I'll see you soon," she said in closing.

The two of them ended their conversation, and Johnny pushed himself up off the bed. He had spent most of the day helping Roy repair a leaky roof. Now, he needed to get cleaned up so he, Roy, and Chet could go to Mike's apartment and talk to him. They wanted to offer their support and share the details about the rivalry between their captain and the assistant chief.

He walked to the bathroom, unzipping his jeans and letting them fall to the floor. He quickly stepped out of them and his boxers, then turned on the shower. The pain in Iris' voice was tugging at his heart, and filling his head with memories. As he waited for the water to warm up, the sound of the shower reminded him of an event that even his best friend didn't know he had been a part of. He stepped inside, closing the curtain and allowing the hot water to rinse away the dirt and grime of the day. He wished removing the negative memories from his past could be accomplished as easily.

E!

Mike rounded the curve and began picking up speed along the narrow road that led down the mountain. Whenever he was driving the engine, he was always aware of the need to get to the scene as quickly as possible; time was against them on most runs. Yet, getting the engine crew to the scene safely took priority over speed. Now, he had no engine crew for which he was responsible. He allowed his foot to press down a little harder on the accelerator. He wanted to get home and call his captain to see if there had been any additional information shared with him. Mike knew that the outcome of that phone call would likely determine if he needed to schedule an appointment with an attorney. If Hunley and Bennett were going to try to take him down, at least he would go down swinging.

Mike caught a glimpse of sudden movement to his right. Before he could react, a flash of grayish-brown shot into the road. Instinctively, he slammed on the breaks, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he braced for the inevitable impact. The collision between the truck and the running deer sent the vehicle careening over the edge of the road. Time seemed to slow down for Mike as the truck rolled over twice, the second time he thought he saw the mortally wounded deer looking at him through the cracked windshield, but he couldn't be sure.

When the truck finally came to a stop, it was resting on the driver's side door. The windshield was broken, and caved in on the upper corner. By the time the dust cleared, Mike was still trying to get his bearings. His head ached, but he didn't feel the warm trickle of blood that indicated a laceration. His neck seemed okay for the moment, but that could change once the adrenaline rush was over. His right arm worked fine, but he was laying on his left arm. He managed to wiggle his fingers, but wasn't able to move his arm around much, due to the steering column pinning him in the vehicle. His ribs and back felt uninjured at the moment. He knew that if he had sustained injuries, he would begin feeling the pain in a few minutes. He was able to move his legs a few inches, but met resistance from the twisted metal. That's when he began to panic. He realized that he was trapped inside the wreckage, and would need to be cut out of what remained of his mangled vehicle. He looked around him, trying to find a way to extricate himself from the carnage. Above him, where the windshield was being pushed inward, he saw blood. Using his right hand, he patted himself in search of the source of the blood. Finding none, he looked at the windshield once again, and realized that the blood was actually on the outside of the vehicle. He allowed his eyes to drift downward, resting them on the lifeless body of the deer.

He blew out his breath. "Sorry… I just couldn't stop in time," he spoke softly, apologizing to the dead animal. "Cap," he chuckled nervously, feeling the need to speak to someone, even if that person wasn't actually present. "We've got a one vehicle accident… with entrapment… and one DOA." He inhaled deeply to test out his ribs and lungs. Finding them fully functional, he continued with his verbal assessment. "Gonna need the jaws for extrication and… AAAARRRGHHHHHH!"

The dead deer he had been staring at seemed to move under its own power, until a large set of eyes began looking back at him. The angry growl he heard sent chills up his spine as large powerful jaws clamped down on the bloody remains, dragging the carcass away from the accident sight. Mike's breaths came in short gasps as he realized why the deer had jumped in front of his vehicle. It was being chased by a hungry mountain lion; the same one that was going to be sharing a dinner of fresh venison with her growing cubs very soon. Mike just hoped that she wasn't planning on a firefighter for dessert.

E!

Darkness was quickly descending on Los Angeles by the time Chet, Roy, and Johnny arrived at Mike's apartment complex. They had decided to have their conversation with Mike without Hank present, wanting to ensure that Mike understood why their captain had made the decision to inform them of the investigation. When Chet pulled his van into a vacant parking spot, the three of them got out and headed for the apartment. No one noticed that Mike's vehicle was missing.

"A'right, Roy… You gonna take the lead on this?" Johnny asked his partner as the three men walked up to the door.

"Why me?"

"Because you're better with people than either one of us," Chet remarked. "Remember that trainee, um…"

"Ed," Johnny stated with an eye roll. "Guy thought he was a doctor, not a paramedic."

"Yea, nearly killed that diabetic fella. Remember, Roy?" Chet added, supporting his position of Roy doing the talking with Mike.

"Yea, I remember, but what's that got to do with Stoker?"

"You handled the whole situation with Ed just perfectly. You said what he needed to hear without losing your cool with him," Johnny said, standing in front of Mike's door. He stuck his fingertips in his back pockets. "I couldn't get past my anger with Ed, and I'm still pissed off at those two idiots from headquarters. I don't want my temper to get our calm engineer all riled up."

"I'm pretty sure he's already riled up, Junior." Roy looked back and forth at his two shift mates, knowing he was outnumbered. He also knew that of the three of them, he probably was the best choice to lead the conversation. He remembered the advice Dr. Brackett had given him when he was considering leaving the paramedic program. The physician had told him that when he was in a difficult situation he needed to look around him at who else was available. If he was the best person to handle it, then he needed to pick the ball up and run with it, even if he was afraid. This was just such a situation.

"Okay, I'll do it," he acquiesced, raising his hand and knocking on the door.

The three stood there expecting their friend to open the door at any moment, but when a second knock brought no answer, they began to wonder if Mike was alright. Their concerns were short-lived when Mike's landlord opened his door across the walkway.

"If you're looking for Mr. Stoker, he's gone."

"Oh?" Chet questioned. "Any idea when he might be back?"

"Said he was going camping somewhere, and that he'd be back Monday. Didn't say where he was going," the older man responded.

Johnny shrugged his shoulders with a quick smirk. "Humph… Wonder who he went with?"

"None of our business," Roy responded, turning his attention to the landlord. "Thank you, sir," he replied calmly, gesturing his thanks to the older man.

"Okay," Chet said, shifting his footing and heading back towards the van. "I guess we'll try this again tomorrow night."

"It's a thousand wonders you make it to work, Kelly," Johnny chided. "We're working tomorrow – quick turnaround, remember? We'll have to come back Tuesday morning when we get off shift."

"Oh, yea… Sorry, guys. My mind's a little preoccupied these days," he stated with a goofy grin as he opened the door of his vehicle. "I've got some special plans coming up for next weekend."

"Anything we should know about?" Johnny asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Not yet… But, when I have something to announce, you guys will be the first to know."

Johnny and Roy looked at each other, knowingly. They both understood what Chet was alluding to, and they were genuinely happy for him.

E!

Mike shivered in the cool night air, still trapped in his vehicle. He tried to figure out how much time had passed since the accident, but was unable to wiggle his left arm free to check his watch. His head was aching, his entire body was sore, and he was getting sleepy.

"No, Stoker! Stay awake!" He screamed at himself. He had no idea how long it might take for someone to find him. He just hoped the deer had been enough to satisfy the hunger of the lioness and her young because he feared she might be able to squeeze through the broken windshield, and he would be totally defenseless in his current state.

As he lay there, pinned in his vehicle, he began to regret his decision not to inform anyone of his whereabouts. He had always been the caretaker, the one who knew where everyone was at every moment, and that they had what they needed to fight the fire, and more importantly - survive. It was his role as engineer and he took it very seriously. He thought about his captain and his shift mates. They had no idea where he was, or that he needed their help right now. Would they come to his rescue if they knew? Yes, he thought to himself. He knew they would. Why had he insisted that Hank keep the investigation a secret from the others? Of course, the answer was obvious. He had seen the other members of the crew when they were vulnerable, but no one on the crew had seen him in such a situation. He thought of Hank when he had been electrocuted, and how nervous he had been as second-in-command to the seasoned fire captain. It had been his responsibility to take over the crew and he had done the job well. Why was he so determined to keep his own humanity a secret?

Eventually, his exhaustion overwhelmed his desire to remain awake and alert. As his eyelids grew heavy, all he could think about was his family at 51's. They rescued people for a living. Now, he would give almost anything to see Johnny or Chet call out to him through the shattered windshield. He would love to hear Roy or Marco telling him that they would have him out in just a few minutes. As he succumbed to sleep, he thought of his captain and how the older man had defended him during the meeting in the captain's office the previous day. He truly respected Hank Stanley. He just hoped that he might one day have the chance to tell him exactly how much he admired him, how grateful he was to have served as his engineer.

E!

Sam Bennett tossed and turned restlessly in his sleep. Something in the back of his mind kept telling him that Firefighter Specialist Michael Stoker was innocent of the accusations against him. Even though his supervisor, Assistant Chief Leonard Hunley, had agreed with his concerns, it seemed that the older man had been much too eager to prove that Mike was guilty. He hadn't even wanted to interview the two women involved in the apartment fires. Instead, he had insisted that Mike be placed on administrative leave until the final report was completed and presented at his hearing.

"Why?" Sam questioned, alone in his home. "Why was he so quick to confirm my suspicions without me even finishing the investigation?" His inquisitive mind began to ponder a plethora of possibilities, but his professional training had taught him never to assume anything. He had to let the facts speak for themselves. 'People lie, facts don't,' he had been taught. That meant that he needed to gather ALL the facts in these cases, including the statements of two of Mike's alleged victims – even if he had to do it on his own time, and without the knowledge of his supervisor.

E!

"Mornin', Cap," Johnny called out as he entered the kitchen of the station. He did a double take when he realized that two people were seated at the table. "Weellll, glad to have ya back, Marco."

"Thank you, John. It's good to be back," the lineman announced, returning to his section of the newspaper and sipping his coffee.

Behind Marco's back, Johnny tried to get Hank's attention. When the older man looked up, Johnny mouthed the words 'does he know about Mike?'

Slowly, Hank shook his head. He had walked in moments before Johnny and hadn't had a chance to discuss it with Marco. He truly dreaded that conversation, but he knew it had to be done. "Um, Marco, I need to see you in my office for just a minute, please."

Marco looked up, his forehead wrinkling in worry. "Now?"

"Yea, Pal. I just wanted to fill you in on what you missed the other day," Hank explained, standing up from his seated position and grabbing his coffee cup.

He waited for Marco to fold up the newspaper, and then the two men exited the kitchen.

Johnny pressed his lips into a thin line, nervous about how Marco would take the news that Mike was in trouble. He knew that Marco would blame himself, and he didn't want the impending conversation between Hank and Marco to cause their senior lineman any more pain than he had already experienced.

Hank stepped inside his office, ushering Marco inside before closing the door behind them. "Have a seat."

"Is something wrong, Cap?" The lineman asked, concerned by the dark expression on his captain's face.

Hank sat down, trying to choose his words before he spoke. He wanted to make this as easy as possible for Marco. "Yes, but it isn't about you," he rushed to say.

Marco hung his head somberly. He was afraid something would be said about his sister, even though he had no control over all that had happened. "It's about Lexi then, isn't it?"

Hank kicked himself for not thinking about how Marco would take his comment. "No, Marco; this has nothing to do with her. I'm glad she's improving though. I'm happy for your family, too."

"Thank you," Marco responded, sounding relieved.

"It's actually about Mike."

"Mike? Is he okay? I noticed he wasn't here when I arrived which is very unusual."

Hank nodded his head in agreement. "He's upset, Marco. He's on administrative leave. It seems he's being investigated for arson."

Marco gasped, his dark eyes growing angry. "ARSON? When, where?"

Hank sighed, realizing this was going to take a long time to explain. He tried his best to give a short version of all the events that had led up to the visit by Hunley and Bennett. He kept watching his lineman as the story progressed. Marco began to grind his teeth together, bouncing his left leg, and fidgeting in his seat. His face took on a reddened appearance as his blood pressure rose. Eventually, when Hank talked about Alexia's assault and apartment fire, Marco began to tremble in anger. However, it was when his captain explained that Alexia's rescue by Mike had ultimately led to the accusations of arson that Marco nearly exploded.

"What the hell?" The lineman jumped up, ready to punch the brick wall if it would take away some of his frustration. "He saved my sister's life! Why do they think he tried to kill her? Didn't they read the police report? Did they get her medical records? That bastard pimp of hers nearly beat her to death then set her apartment on fire. It was Ricardo, not Mike! What kind of fools do we work with, Cap?"

"Well," Hank responded shaking his head sadly as he stared at the top of his desk. He knew that Marco needed to know the rest of the story. "There's more to it than just Mike and Alexia. Hunley hates every bone in my body. I'll get to that in a minute, but to answer your question about what kind of fools we work with, I'll tell you. We work with the most dangerous kind – powerful people with no conscience, who don't care who they step on to get what they want."

E!

Mike's eyes fluttered open as the sun began to warm the interior of his damaged vehicle. He tried to move his stiff body, but was quickly reminded that he was trapped. The pain and soreness that hadn't been too bad the previous night, really began to make an appearance. He struggled to lift his head, but the pounding only worsened. He closed his eyes with a grunt.

"Ugh, damn."

Once again, he tried to move his legs, but they were pinned in the twisted metal. He struggled to free his left arm from beneath his tortured body. While he managed to move it around some, he wasn't able to completely free it. At least, he was able to move it enough to know that it wasn't broken. He still had use of his right arm, for which he was grateful. He looked around inside the cab of his truck. Nothing had changed from the time of the accident. There was still blood splatters on the upper right corner of the broken windshield. The fractures in the glass caused the sun's glare to hurt his eyes no matter which way he shifted his head. Now, there were other problems that were beginning to develop. He smacked his dry lips together. He had been in this position for at least twelve hours, maybe longer, with nothing to eat or drink. Hunger was something he could deal with, but the thirst was a much more uncomfortable situation. There was also another pressing matter. His bladder had been filled to capacity and he had no way of relieving himself.

"Ohmygod," he groaned, trying to slip his right hand down the front of his shirt. If he could just unzip his pants, maybe he could urinate without getting his clothes completely soiled. Somehow, he managed to press his hands past his abdomen and down to his crotch. With careful movements, not sure if there were any sharp objects in the vicinity, he lowered his zipper. In a few moments, he found his relief, but that relief was short lived as the urine had nowhere to go except to run back down along his pant leg. The strong odor was noxious, but he had no other choice. He completed his task, then managed to return the zipper to the upright position without damaging himself. He closed his eyes in a combination of fear and disgust. He had never been in a position like this before. He had always been the rescuer, not the victim. He had always been the one helping out his fellow firefighters when they were hurt, never being the one injured. Now, he felt a weakness like none he had ever known in his entire life. "Please… Please somebody help me," he whispered hoarsely.

E!

Alexia completed her first group session with the other ladies at The Wellhouse. It had been easier than she had thought to tell the others about her experiences. There had been no pressure, but the others had made her feel welcome and safe, and she drew comfort from their experiences.

After they ate lunch, Beverly asked to speak to Alexia alone. When they walked inside the small office in the back of the house, Alexia felt as if her breath had been taken away from her.

"Did I do something wrong?" The younger woman asked, fearing that she had committed some infraction that might cause her to lose her place in the recovery program.

"No… Of course not. I was just wondering how you were feeling today? How did this morning's group work go?" Beverly had already spoken to the therapist, but she wanted to get Alexia's perspective on it.

Alexia looked around the small office, still feeling anxious when someone said they wanted to help her. "Um, I thought it went well. I'm really happy to be here, Beverly. It's just… It's going to take me a few days to get used to it."

"Used to what?" The counselor asked, already suspecting the answer.

Alexia gulped, wishing she didn't have to say the words, yet, knowing that she was safe to do so in this environment. "Um… Used to the fact that no one is really watching me. No one is going to make arrangements with me to trade sex for a meal… Stuff like that," she shrugged, hanging her head.

"Chin up, Alexia. There's no shame here." Beverly waited for the younger woman to comply before she continued. "That's better. Are you sure you're going to stay here?"

"Yes," Alexia said, confused by what she was hearing. "Of course, I am. Unless you want me to leave. Do the others want me to go?"

Beverly smiled at her young friend. "That isn't the problem, Alexia. I just wanted to reassure myself that you won't leave here until you're ready to go home. If you can give me some reassurance that you'll stay here and follow the rules, then I'll go talk to your son tonight. He needs to know that you are back, and that you are getting better so that you can go home. But I won't do that until I know you're certain of your plans. The worst thing I can do right now is to make him a promise about his mother that I really can't keep. Do you understand?"

Alexia's trembling fingers ran beneath her tear-filled eyes. She felt the lump in her throat growing, her lower lip quivering, and her breath coming in short gasps. "I… I don't want to… to ever h-hurt him… But I DO… want to see him… I love him, Beverly. I love him… so much that it hurts," she cried, feeling as if her chest was going to explode from the pressure.

Beverly smiled, reassuringly. "That's great to hear. I'll go speak with him tonight or tomorrow, whenever your mother agrees. Then we'll decide when the two of you can meet." Beverly looked at the excited young woman, knowing that her next statement might hurt her deeply. "Please understand, this must be handled carefully. He won't know you at first. He might accept you quickly, or it might take some time. As difficult as this is for you to hear, please try to see it from his point of view. He has spent his entire life being nurtured and cared for by your mother. That means, he will likely have some difficulty accepting that you will be his parent. You haven't been in that role, but that doesn't mean you won't be eventually. It'll just take time. He's going to need your patience and your love. We must let him choose when to start viewing YOU as his parent, and NOT your mother. It could be a very slow transition. That means that for a while you and your mother will be co-parenting him. Does that make sense?"

Alexia simply nodded her head. She hadn't really considered the details of how she would step into the role of Antonio's mother. She thought that he might simply either accept or reject her. She hadn't considered a transitional period.

"Good. I'll call your mother and see when we can set up our meeting. I'm hoping it can take place tonight, if that works with her schedule. If not, then maybe tomorrow. We can't really plan a reunion for you and Antonio until after I speak with him," Beverly stated. She had been a part of several family reunions, but never a reunion between a mother and child when the child was so young. This was new territory for her, as well. All she could do now was pray for guidance and wisdom from the same God she believed had delivered her from the sexual slavery in which she had been trapped for so many years. If this meeting went well, it could be the catalyst in totally delivering Alexia from her past, as well.

E!

The men were quiet around the station. The dinner dishes had been washed and the crew were spread around the station, playing a card game or reading a book. Marco had been sitting at the picnic table alone behind the station, sipping on his after-dinner coffee, when Johnny stepped out of the back door calling to him.

"Hey, Marco? Phone," the paramedic called out.

Marco quickly pushed his coffee aside as he jumped up and hurried into the building. This was his first shift back at work since Alexia had been found, and he was worried that something had gone wrong with her. He stepped into the dorm, pushing the flashing button on the phone.

"Firefighter Marco Lopez," he answered, using his most professional voice.

"Marco, are you going to be able to come home, to my house I mean, in the morning?"

"I never know for sure what time I'll get off, Mama," Marco stated. "What's wrong?"

"Beverly called. She said that Lexi seems to be adjusting well, and she thinks it's safe to tell Antonio about her," Maria explained. "I'd really rather you be here when that happens. You have a calming effect on him."

Marco pinched the bridge of his nose. He was undecided as to whether this was good news or not. In the back of his mind, he feared that she might leave again. It made him nervous to think about getting Antonio's hopes up only to have them shattered later. Then he realized that things really had changed for her. He had to remind himself that she wasn't the defiant young teenager she had been all those years ago. His mother had been right all along; her choice to leave had been hers, but not her choice to stay away. Her situation was improving, and she seemed to genuinely want to return to her old life. Perhaps it was safe to tell Antonio about her and prepare the child for their reunion.

"Okay, I understand. As long as we're not on a run, I'll be over as quickly as I can get there after my relief arrives."

E!

By the time the sun set for the second time since his accident, Mike was drifting in and out of consciousness. He had somehow been able to free his left arm, but moving it was painful. He didn't think he had any broken bones, but the impact had left quite a bruise around his elbow. The afternoon sun had heated up the inside of his truck, leaving him further dehydrated. He had lost a lot of body fluids through sweating inside the hot metal box.

He was frustrated that no one had come along and seen his vehicle, but he had no idea how far off the roadway he had traveled after hitting the deer. It was quite possible that his vehicle couldn't be seen from the road. If that were the case, then he knew he would likely die here – alone and in agony. His lips were beginning to crack from lack of water and the heat inside the wreckage.

"Oh, God… If You're any… where ar-round me, p'ease… P'ease he'p… m-me," he mumbled, his voice fading. He feared he would die, yet feared he wouldn't die soon enough. He had always assumed that if he passed away young, it would be tragically in a fire. At least his life would have meaning if he lost it while trying to save someone else. Now, it looked as if he would die thirsty, hungry, and in pain, lying in a pool of urine, trapped inside the crumpled remains of his own vehicle. A few moments later, he slipped into unconsciousness again, a welcomed relief from the misery in which he was enveloped.

As he slept, he began to dream, and in this dream he found himself once again inside Alexia's burning apartment. He seemed to be paralyzed, watching as the flames crept closer and closer to her unconscious body. No matter how hard he tried to make his muscles move, they wouldn't cooperate. He tried to call out to her, to anyone who might be able to assist them, but he had no words. The only sound that escaped from his mouth was a rush of air. He saw her eyes begin to flutter and open. Panicked, she searched around the room for a way out, but she was trapped. She didn't even see him standing near her, unable to move. He watched as she opened her mouth, screaming in terror.

The sound of her scream broke through his dream world, startling him awake. He looked around, trying to regain his senses when he heard the scream a second time. Only this time, it wasn't Alexia screaming in his nightmare. In the distance, somewhere in the darkness of the night, a mountain lion was once again stalking. And for the first time in his life, Mike began to pray for death to find him before the wild animal did.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Johnny and Roy changed their clothes in the locker room, their conversation strained. Johnny pulled his tee shirt over his head, leaving it untucked as he stuffed his dirty uniforms into his duffel bag.

"Something's not right, Roy. I'm tellin' ya, something's just not right," Johnny complained. "Why didn't he go home last night, huh?"

Roy rolled his eyes at his partner. "Maybe he's enjoying the peace and quiet of the outdoors," he said, waving his hand in front of him.

"Nu-uh," Johnny grunted, sitting down beside Roy on the bench. "Stoker NEVER does anything by chance. If he told the old man he'd be back yesterday, then that was his plan." He rubbed his nose with his finger, a habit he didn't even realize he had. "I gotta bad feelin' about this."

Roy stood up, collecting his personal belongings. He was growing tired of Johnny and Chet treating their engineer as if he were a teenager late for curfew. "Maybe he was at home and didn't feel like talking." He pulled the strap of his bag over his shoulder. "There's no law that says he has to answer his phone."

"Nope," Johnny responded, his voice filled with anxiety. "He would've left his phone off the hook if he didn't want to be disturbed. It just kept ringin' and ringin' and ringin'. I'm tellin' ya, something's wrong."

"Well, maybe he'll answer Chet this morning," Roy said.

Chet pushed through the locker room door as if on cue. "Hey, fellas… He's still not answering his phone. I think we oughta just go on over there."

Johnny shot Roy a look as if to say 'I told you so.'

"For what?" Roy asked, his eyes widening in disbelief at what he was hearing. "He's not home!"

"I'll go with ya, Chet," Johnny offered. "You comin'?" He asked, looking back at his partner.

Roy huffed loudly. "I don't want to worry Joanne. Why don't the two of you go over there and check on him while I go home? If he isn't there and you want to go looking for him, then call me and I'll go with you."

"That'll work," Johnny stated, feeling energized by their plan.

"Right behind ya," Chet called out, following Johnny out of the locker room and across the back parking lot with Roy lagging behind them, his pace a little less hurried.

Marco exited Hank's office, having apologized to his supervisor for his outburst the day before. He had been grateful to his captain and all the crew for all they had done for him and his family. He just wished that Mike was available to hear his words of gratitude, as well. He owed his engineer a debt he could never repay.

Thoughts of Mike sent Marco's mind reeling. He couldn't believe the accusations Mike was now facing. He wanted to rush over to Mike's apartment to offer his support. However, he knew he needed to hurry to his mother's home. Today was the day Antonio was going to find out about his mother, and Marco needed to be there for his young nephew.

E!

On a Tehachapi plateau, Hiram watched as the three young men wearing navy blue uniforms that resembled surgical scrubs, loaded up the delivery truck with various plants. They had been blessed with obtaining several new clients recently. This kept his newest converts busy, and brought in some additional income for the group. His long brown hair flowed in the fall breeze, his white garments seeming to glow in the morning sun. He tugged at his beard, smiling at his followers.

"My sons, you have done well," he praised. "You will receive your reward very soon." He noted the dark circles beneath their eyes, their frames appearing thinner since they had arrived. He had achieved his goals with them, and he knew they were ready to be moved up in his organization. He couldn't afford to lose them. "When you return, report to the chapel," he said with a smile.

The three men looked at each other, subtle smiles appearing on their tired faces. Their sacrifices and hard work were going to be recognized. They were going to be given new garments, symbolic of their upward progress. They climbed into the cab of the white delivery truck with renewed energy.

Hiram raised both hands upward, closing his eyes and facing the sun. "Go in peace, minister in love, keep your faith."

"Amen," the three said in unison, as the driver cranked up the truck, and drove towards their first delivery of the day.

E!

Mike's parched throat created a coughing spasm that brought him out of his unconscious state. His lips were dry and his tongue felt sticky and swollen. The coughing was painful, but he was unable to stop it for several long moments.

"Ahua… Ah, aarrgh, ugh…" Mike struggled to collect his thoughts in his current condition. He felt like he was stuck in a sadistic nightmare, but the discomfort he was feeling made the situation all too real. He forced his eyes open, squinting from the pain the light caused him as it flickered across his face, and for the first time in his life he wished that he could close his eyes permanently. He no longer held out hope for rescue. Now, he just wanted to end his suffering, and death was the only way he knew to get out of the predicament he found himself in. "P'ease… Jus'… Lemme go…," he mumbled to any deity that might be listening.

A rumbling sound found its way into the crumpled cab of his pick-up. In his hazy mind, it sounded like the low-pitched growl of the mountain lion. Panic filled his soul, his heart slamming around inside his chest until the growl was replaced by the rushing sound in his ears. He squeezed his eyes closed, forcing his breathing to slow down. If the mountain lion was going to kill him, he certainly didn't want to see it coming. His fingers began to tingle and his mouth felt numb. He imagined the painful death that awaited him when the big cat finally managed to reach through the broken windshield, removing him limb by limb with her enormous claws.

"Guh, uh, ahua…" He continued to cough and gag, his respiration rate increasing as he fought with his own frayed nerves. As the rushing sound in his ears grew louder, he began to see sparkling dots floating before his eyes. He knew he was hyperventilating, but he was helpless to stop it. Slowly, the darkness that had been so merciful to him once again took over, ushering him back into the shadows of unconsciousness.

Inside the delivery truck, the three young men were discussing their upcoming promotions to the next level in the group. Suddenly, Eli saw an overturned vehicle down in a small ravine. "Hey," he shouted, pointing at the carnage. "Look!"

James stopped the delivery truck, turning on the emergency flashers even though the likelihood of another vehicle passing by was slim along the deserted road. "Someone may need our help."

The three men got out of the truck and carefully made their way down to the damaged pick-up. "Hello? Anybody here?"

As they rounded the edge of the vehicle, surveying the mangled mass of metal, James made a horrifying discovery. Trapped inside the vehicle was a man, his eyes closed and his body unmoving. "Oh no… Sir?" He called out, his voice sounding calm, belying the panic that was rising within his soul. "Sir, can you hear me?"

The other two men rushed to James, anxious to see the man to whom he spoke.

"Is he alive?" Ephraim asked, concerned by the appearance of the unconscious man. He felt the hand of his twin brother, Eli grasping his shoulder.

"I don't know. I can't reach him," James explained, kneeling down in the dirt trying to find a way to get inside the cab without cutting himself. "Go get me some gloves from the back of the truck," he ordered, continuing to call out to the man. "Sir? Hello? Can you hear me?"

Eli retrieved the requested work gloves and returned to the site of the wreckage. "Here," he said, thrusting a pair of gloves into the hands of Ephraim and handing another pair to James. "How are we going to get him out?"

"We aren't," James replied, flatly. "We're going to try to pull the windshield out enough so I can climb in. If he's alive, then we've got to call for help. We can't move him. We might cause him more harm."

"And if he's not alive?" Ephraim asked, already knowing the answer.

"Then we call it in as a DOA. But we don't leave him alone, either way," James explained, his medical training pushing to the surface of his memory. He had spent months as a medic in Vietnam, only to come home to a country he no longer recognized and a family who had abandoned him. He had found a place to belong with the Unity family, and he was finally beginning to feel human again. He sincerely hoped that the young man inside the wreckage was still alive. Being able to save a life again, for something other than to supply soldiers for a war he didn't agree with, would be a balm for his soul.

"Okay," Ephraim answered, pulling on the thick gloves, tossing his long blonde hair out of his eyes. "Let's see what we can do."

The three men worked at a feverish pace, pulling on the bent framework holding what was left of the windshield in place. With grunts and groans emitting from their fatigued bodies, they eventually pulled the windshield apart enough for James to crawl inside.

"Hey, sir?" He continued to call out, not wanting to startle the man if he were to regain consciousness. He reached down, pulling off his gloves and using his bare hand to check for a carotid pulse. When he felt the rapid weak thumping beneath his fingers, he silently sent up a prayer of thanks. "He's alive."

Eli stepped back in shock. The man looked more dead than alive. "Wha-What do we do?"

James looked over at the frightened young man. "Eli, go get the canteens from the truck, and bring any rags that you can find." He then turned to Ephraim. "Do you think you can drive the truck back to the compound? Hiram needs to know what we've found. He has to call this in to the authorities. Tell him this man is near death and must be given medical treatment as soon as possible. Can you do that?"

"Y-yes," Ephraim responded, looking around him and seeing that his twin was already removing the requested items from their truck.

"Good, now go," James directed, gratefully acknowledging Eli when he brought back two canteens of water and a handful of pieces of cloth. He immediately turned his attention to his victim. "Alright… It's going to be alright," he soothed, not knowing if his words were being heard or not.

Mike Stoker fought the inky darkness, trying to find his way out of the mire that held him down. He was hearing voices, but wasn't able to discern what the voices were saying. He remembered the rumbling growl of the mountain lion, and his pulse and respiration rates spiked. This was it. Death was near. When he felt something brush along his neck, he gasped. Was it the lioness closing in for the kill? He knew they often used their jaws to clamp down on the neck of their prey, cutting off the supply of oxygen until the helpless victim suffocated. Was that what he was now? Nothing more than prey for the predator? His mind began to play tricks on him, allowing him to feel a gentle coolness against his burning hot skin.

"Ungh," he groaned, his heavy right arm shifting upwards slightly in a valiant attempt to fight off his attacker.

"It's okay, mister. I'm with you, just relax. Help is on the way," James soothed, hoping to keep the semiconscious man as calm and still as possible. He had no way of knowing if his victim had a neck or back injury and he had nothing to use for spinal precautions. He shifted his position in the cramped space, using his leg to limit the space for Mike to move his arm. He didn't want to hold him down, only subdue his movements to prevent further injury.

"Gah," Mike continued to slowly climb his way out of the abyss he had been in for hours. "Uh… Um," he croaked out, smacking his dry lips together. Then the most blissful feeling he had ever known gently touched his lips.

James poured some of the cool water out of one of the canteens onto a piece of cloth. In an act of pure compassion, he carefully laid the strip of cloth across Mike's cracked lips. "Easy, mister. You're not alone. I'm with you. You've been found," he spoke softly, continuing to do everything he could to keep Mike calm. He wet a second cloth, using it to wipe Mike's face, hoping the coolness might stimulate him enough to fully awaken.

"Mmm," Mike hummed against the cool damp cloth. He tried to move his head, but found it being held firmly in place. "Muungh."

James held onto the man's head, trying to keep him from further harming himself if he had sustained a neck injury. "Just take it easy. We'll get you out of here. Just try not to move," he continued to use his voice to reassure his victim. As he continued to bathe Mike's hot face, he was rewarded when Mike slowly opened his blood-shot blue eyes.

Mike's vision was blurry, and he was unable to focus on the image in front of him. All he knew was that someone was with him. He was no longer alone. The burning had been replaced by coolness on his face, and the dryness had been replaced by dampness on his lips. As he continued to force his eyes open, he realized that he was looking at someone's face. The image was silhouetted by the morning sun, forming a bright golden disc around the man's head. His hair was long, and he wore a beard. He appeared to be the image of the Biblical Jesus Mike had been taught about as a child, complete with a halo. Peace began to flood Mike's heart. He assumed he was dead, or close to it, and he had found favor with God. He wanted to cry out his gratitude that he was being escorted to heaven.

"Je… Sa, ugh," he grunted, trying to speak past the cloth covering his lips. "Wuh… Wa…"

James saw that the man was struggling to speak, and new he was most likely begging for water. He could tell that his victim had been trapped for many hours, if not days, and knew that he was in dire need of hydration. Yet, he didn't want to risk moving his neck and paralyzing him.

"I know you're thirsty, but I can't risk a neck injury by holding your head up for you to drink. It could make you nauseated and I don't want you to vomit or start dry heaving. That could injure you, too. I'm going to try to get a few drops into your mouth with my fingers."

"Ah," Mike moaned in response, pain in his left shoulder telling him he was definitely not dead.. He wasn't sure what his rescuer had said, but he could tell by his voice that he was kind. He relaxed, no longer afraid of what was happening to him. He felt the first cool drops of water pooling into the corner of his mouth. He parted his lips slightly, enough to allow the tiny amount of water to enter. Nothing had ever felt as pleasurable. Again, a few more drops found their way inside his slightly open mouth, and he closed it back to keep the precious moisture inside. He had not yet collected enough to swallow, but the wetness felt divine on his tongue. Drop by precious drop the ministrations continued. Mike had never felt as vulnerable, weak, or as needy as he felt while the kindness of a stranger met his most basic human needs, needs he could not meet for himself for the first time in thirty-four years.

E!

Chet and Johnny pulled into the parking lot at Mike's apartment. Immediately, they both noticed that his truck was not there.

Johnny slammed the door of his Rover shut, squinting his eyes in the morning sun as he looked around. Chet exited his vehicle, noticing Johnny's frustrated look.

"I don't see it," Chet called out, stepping in stride with his friend as they walked up the sidewalk to Mike's apartment.

"Yea, I know." Johnny planted a hand on his hip, using the other to knock on Mike's door. He heard no sounds coming from inside the apartment so he pounded even harder the second time.

"You fellas were here the other night, right?"

Both firemen turned around, facing the same elderly man who had informed them of Mike's impromptu camping trip.

"Yes, sir. Have you seen Mike around?" Johnny asked.

"No… Got me kinda worried. Mr. Stoker always helps me get the garbage to the dumpster for the older residents. He wasn't here to do it this morning even though he wasn't working. He always helps me when he isn't on shift. You boys don't think there's something wrong, do you?"

Chet and Johnny exchanged looks.

"Uh, we sure hope not," Chet replied.

"Did he say where he was going camping?" Johnny questioned, already fearing the worst. He knew that he and his friends needed to go looking for Mike, but they had no idea where he may have gone.

The old man scratched his head, leaving a tiny tuft of silver hair sticking up along the side near his bald spot. "Um, let me see," he pondered, staring at the ground. "No… No, I don't believe he said 'xactly where. Just said he'd be back on Monday, but… Today's Tuesday, right?"

"Yes, sir," both firemen said in unison.

"Well, he should've been back yesterday," the old man complained. "I hope he's alright."

"So do we," Johnny commented. He ran a worried hand through his hair, looking back at Chet then returning his attention back to the old man. "Do you remember what he carried with him?"

"Oh, let's see. He had a green sleeping bag all rolled up, a big ice chest, some metal poles, I believe…"

"Poles? Like for a tent?" Johnny clarified.

"Yea… Yea, I think they could've been tent poles," the older man concluded.

Johnny tapped Chet's chest with the back of his hand. "He usually sleeps on an air mattress in the bed of his truck. Only a couple of spots I know of where he'd go with his tent. C'mon, let's go get Roy. We've gotta make a road trip." Johnny loped back toward his Rover, leaving Chet to thank the elderly gentleman before he followed his friend back to the parking lot.

"Uh, thank you, sir," Chet tossed over his shoulder.

Johnny jumped into his Rover. "C'mon, climb in. We'll go pick up Roy and head to Tehachapi. That's the closest place he might go. I wanna check there first before we head further north."

Chet did as Johnny asked, locking his van up then climbing into the passenger's seat of the white vehicle. He had barely closed his door when Johnny peeled out of the parking lot.

"Damn, Gage… Slow down. We can't find him if we're in an accident," Chet complained, holding onto the door handle. "Besides, what's at Tehachapi?"

"Beautiful landscape, quiet nights… And a lotta solitude… Oh, and poisonous vermin."

Chet rolled his eyes, clutching his head in his hands. "Shit! Shit! Shit! I can't handle another snakebite. I just can't!"

Johnny felt a connection with Chet that he hadn't felt in a long time. He remembered how the lineman had used the venom extractor to pull as much of the poison as he could out of Johnny's leg wound when he had been bitten by a rattlesnake while at an accident scene. Roy had told him later how worried Chet had been, how worried they had all been, thinking that Johnny may not survive. Now, he was just as worried about Mike, although he didn't know the exact circumstances of his engineer's delayed return to his apartment. All he knew was that Mike Stoker was never late for anything, just like Captain Stanley had mentioned last shift. Now, not only was he overdue to return, but he had not assisted his landlord in an activity he normally completed. That could only mean one thing: Mike was in trouble.

E!

Marco walked into his mother's house, smelling the scent of breakfast. "Mama? I'm home," he called out.

"Meeko!" A child's voice shouted just ahead of a rush of energy that landed in Marco's arms.

"Hello, Ant," Marco said with a grin. "Where's your grandma?"

"Grandma is putting breakfast on the table," Maria called out, drying her nervous hands on her apron. Beverly had already called to confirm the appointment at 9:00 o'clock. That meant she only had a few minutes to get her boys fed and the dishes cleaned up.

"Good morning, Mama," Marco said softly, walking into the kitchen and planting a light kiss on Maria's cheek.

Maria smiled, accepting the loving gesture then finished placing the food on the table. She pulled out her usual chair, taking a seat while Marco and Antonio seated themselves. "Ant, do you want to say grace?"

The dark-eyed child vehemently shook his head. He hadn't prayed out loud since he and Corrie had had their conversation at the Desoto residence about asking Santa Claus to bring them parents with their toys for Christmas. He had decided to try asking God instead, remembering all that his grandmother had spent the last four years teaching him about faith in God. In his own way, he figured that if he silently prayed for a mommy while his uncle or grandmother prayed out loud for their food to be blessed, then maybe his silent child's prayer would get attached to the adult prayer. That way, when God blessed the food, then His blessing would grant Antonio's request, too. It seemed logical to his four year-old brain. He bowed his head, listening for Marco to start the prayer. As his uncle's voice recited the familiar prayer, Antonio silently begged God to give him what he most desired: A mommy and a daddy.

E!

At The Wellhouse, Beverly sat in her office offering a box of tissue to her newest client. Her own heart was breaking as she saw the myriad of emotions playing out on Alexia's face. She knew the young woman was nervous, unsure of what the next few hours might bring. They had no way of knowing how Antonio might react to the news of his mother wanting to return to him. Beverly sat patiently, waiting for Alexia to gather herself enough to finish their conversation.

"I-I can't…believe…it's hap'ning," she sobbed, wiping her nose with the tissue. Her eyes were swollen from all the crying she had done since finding out that today might be the day she met her son.

Beverly placed her arm gently across Alexia's shoulders. "You've got to prepare yourself for disappointment, Alexia. He might be afraid of you at first. We don't even know if he'll want to see you today."

Alexia closed her eyes, forcing out the tears that had pooled in the corners. "I un-understand," she hiccupped. "But at least I'll know." She opened her brown eyes, staring deeply into the green eyes of her counselor. "Beverly, I've been living with disappointment for five years. I can… I can take it a little longer if I have to. Antonio can have all the time…," she hesitated, swallowing the lump that was rising in her throat. "Um, all the time he needs. All I want is the chance, and today you're giving me that chance. Thank you," she cried out, leaning against Beverly's shoulder. "Thank you so much."

Beverly looked at the clock, realizing she had to leave now or else she would be late for her appointment at the Lopez home. "Alright, we'll talk as soon as I get back," she said, offering the nervous young woman a soft smile.

Alexia nodded gratefully, watching as Beverly collected her purse and portfolio then walked out of the facility. Alexia quietly headed for her bedroom, unsure of what to do with herself while she waited on the outcome of the meeting. It was her turn to cook lunch, but it was still too early to start the preparations. She was walking down the hallway when the house phone began to ring. Quickly, she walked over to it and answered.

"Hello, Wellhouse."

The distinctly male voice of the caller caught Alexia off guard.

"Yes, I'm looking for a Miss Alexia Lopez."

Terror shot through Alexia's chest, robbing her of her breath for a moment. "Ug, um... Th-this is Miss Lopez. Who's calling?"

"My name is Sam Bennett. I'm investigating your apartment fire. We believe it was arson. I'd really like to interview you, if you don't mind. It's very important to the case."

Alexia felt the room tilt, and she leaned against the wall for support. Never had she considered that she would be a part of an arson investigation. She had already been interviewed by the police for the assault incident, but nothing had been mentioned about arson. She looked around, realizing that no one was available to help her make this decision. She knew the rules of the facility, no visitors without the approval of the staff. Did that include investigators? She wasn't sure.

"Miss? Are you still there?"

Alexia jumped at the sound of the investigator's voice, knowing she needed to give him an answer. "Um, I-I'll have to call you back. I have to ask permission before… How did you know I was here?" She asked, suddenly feeling paranoid about being found by one of Ricardo's cronies.

"I apologize, Miss Lopez. I should've explained. I contacted Dr. Kelly Brackett at Rampart General Hospital. He was your attending physician while you were hospitalized, and…"

"I know who Dr. Brackett is," Alexia interrupted, feeling a bit of her old street-wise spunk returning.

"Yes… Of course you do," Sam mumbled, chiding himself. "Um, why don't you call Rampart and ask to speak with him. He'll be glad to explain to you that I am who I say I am. Then if you can get permission to meet with me, I'd really like to interview you about the fire."

Alexia felt herself relaxing, breathing deeply before responding. She knew that if this man was asking her to contact Dr. Brackett then he wasn't affiliated with Ricardo. Dr. Brackett would have checked him out thoroughly before telling him where she had gone and how to reach her. She trusted Dr. Brackett completely. "Okay… Give me your telephone number and I'll call you back once I've confirmed all of this with Dr. Brackett and gotten permission to meet with you."

"Fair enough. Thank you, Miss Lopez. My number is 555-5664 and my name is Sam Bennett," he repeated.

"Alright, I've got it," Alexia stated, using the pencil and pad beside the phone to take down the message. "I'll, ah… I'll call you back, soon."

"Thank you. Good-bye," Sam offered, hanging up the telephone.

Alexia heard the clicking sound on the other end of the line. Slowly, she hung up the house phone, her eyes unfocused as she considered the possibilities of why the investigator might want to talk to her. She sat still, remembering how Ricardo had turned on the stove, heating up the metal end of the weapon he had used to beat her. Had he left the stove on? She couldn't remember. The only thing she could remember clearly was seeing Michael's truck drive beneath her window, and her nearly silent cry for help. He had saved her life that night, and again she wondered where he was now. Why had he seemed so concerned about her before the fire, only to abandon her afterwards?

E!

Beverly drove into the Lopez' driveway, getting out of her car and hurrying up the steps to the front door. She could hear the laughter of a small child and wondered if perhaps the joyous sounds were those of Antonio Lopez. She shifted her purse onto her shoulder and knocked firmly on the door.

Maria felt her heart flutter at the sound of the knock. She glanced at Marco with a knowing look.

"I'll get it, Mama," Marco replied, knowing that his mother was extremely nervous about this meeting. When he opened the door, he felt his heart skip a beat. Beverly stood before him, smiling in a way that lit up her whole face. "Good morning," he said, flashing her a bright smile.

"Hello, is everyone here?" She asked, passing by Marco as he held open the door for her.

"Yes… Mama and Ant are in the living room. Please follow me," he requested.

"Good morning, Ms. Lopez," Beverly greeted as she entered the room and took a seat. She saw the dark-haired child look up at her from his place on the floor. He had made a barn out of the braided rug on the floor, creating a sort of cave for his farm animals. "And you must be Antonio."

"Yes, what's your name?" The inquisitive child asked, not intimidated in the least by the pretty stranger.

Beverly snickered, cutting her eyes at Maria and Marco with a smile. "My name is Beverly. I'm a friend of your grandma and your uncle."

The inquisitive little boy looked back at his uncle, seeing how he was looking at their pretty female guest. He quickly turned back around to Beverly with a sheepish grin. "Are you Meeko's girlfriend?"

Marco felt like crawling beneath the ripple in the braided rug, wanting to hide out in the small cave rather than face Beverly Marsh after Antonio's question. He felt the hot flush coloring his face, and wished he had a way to hide his embarrassment. He opened his mouth to give a denial, but Beverly spoke first.

"Well, let's see. I'm a girl. And I'm a friend of Marco's. So… Why don't we just leave it at that for now, okay?" She could see Marco shifting uncomfortably in his seat. A thought briefly flitted through her mind as she wondered what it would be like to be Marco's girlfriend. Yet, she didn't allow the thought to linger, knowing that no man as nice and respectable as Marco Lopez would ever even consider offering her his companionship, certainly not a romantic relationship. Her past had marred her for life, leaving behind both physical scars as well as emotional ones. Who would want a former prostitute as a girlfriend? She tamped down the negative thoughts, knowing that the purpose of her visit was not to discuss her friendship with Marco. It was to introduce the idea of a long lost mother to the young boy standing near her, leaning his elbows against the arm of the chair in which she sat.

"Ms. Marsh wants to talk to you about something really important, Ant," Maria explained.

"Ant, will you show me your farm animals?" Beverly asked, suddenly thinking of a way to reach the child on his level. When the little boy nodded his head enthusiastically, Beverly set her purse and portfolio down on the coffee table. She sat down on the floor beside the happy child. "Okay, tell me who all of these animals are."

For several minutes Antonio proudly told Beverly what kind of animal each plastic figure represented. They discussed how high horses could jump and what pigs liked to eat. Antonio told her how the cows gave them milk to drink, surmising that they must own a milk store inside the barn. Beverly tried not to laugh at his assumptions, glad he hadn't asked her to explain exactly where the milk came from. When they eventually made their way to the tiny flock of chickens, Beverly knew she had to get to the point.

"Okay, I see that these are the chicks," she said, pointing to the three tiny yellow birds on top of the makeshift barn. "But who is this?"

Antonio looked at the hen, then slapped his forehead with his open palm. "That's the Mama chicken. You don't know very much about farms, do you?"

"Antonio Lopez!" Maria scolded, ashamed of how her grandson was behaving with their guest. She saw the look Marco was giving her and suddenly realized that Beverly had carefully orchestrated the entire conversation, unfazed by Antonio's comment. She knew that Marco understood and saw the look of amazement in his eyes.

Beverly laughed at Antonio's antics, waving off Maria's attempt at correction. "No, I don't know much about farm animals. That's why I'm asking you. So, this is the Mama chicken, huh?"

"Yes," he responded, moving the hen beside her chicks.

"And what do Mama chickens do?" Beverly asked, hoping to open the dialogue between them.

"They take care of their chicks. They cook them breakfast, and read bedtime stories to them, and…"

"Ooohhh, just like people Mamas do, right?" Beverly asked, hoping that her young client was making the connection in his four year-old brain.

She saw the shadow that crossed his small face as he sadly nodded. This was her opening and she didn't hesitate. "Antonio, can you look at me for a minute?" She waited for him to look up before she continued. "I know you think that you don't have a Mama, but you do."

Antonio drew his eyebrows together, perplexed by Beverly's statement. "No, I don't."

Beverly chose her words very carefully. "Yes, sweetheart. You do have a Mama. She's been sick for a long time. That's why you don't remember her. But she's feeling much better now, and she might be able to come home soon. What do you think about that?"

Maria wiped the tears from her eyes. She held her breath as she waited for Antonio's response to this new information he was learning about his mother. Would he be accepting? Would he reject her? Maria felt Marco grasp her hand, squeezing it gently as they waited for the young boy to answer the question Beverly had posed.

"I got a real Mama? A real people Mama just like Corrie?" He asked, struggling to fully comprehend what he was hearing.

Beverly looked over the two Lopez adults. She didn't know who Corrie was, but was encouraged by Marco's affirmative nod. "Yes, and your Mama loves you more than anything in the world," Beverly added, hoping she was reaching Antonio in a way that he understood. She glanced up at the other two adults in the room, seeing the worried looks on their faces. This was the moment of truth for all of them. This would determine how soon they could be reunited as a family. Beverly felt their anxiety, heard the faint gasp from Maria as Antonio looked up at Beverly with sincerity in his tiny voice.

"I love her, too. When will she come play with me?"

E!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Beverly Marsh felt her heart surged into her throat. This was the best possible response she could have hoped for. She dared a glance at the Lopez adults, noting Maria's weeping and Marco's reddening eyes, and she knew they felt the same way she did.

"I tell you what, Antonio. Why don't I go back to the place where your Mama is staying to get better, and talk to her? Then, if it's okay with your grandma and uncle, maybe they can bring you over for a visit and picnic tomorrow around lunch? Our backyard has a picnic table and the weather should be beautiful. You can even bring your farm animals over to show your Mama." Beverly waited for a response, holding her breath.

Antonio knitted his eyebrows together in contemplation before looking back over his shoulder at his grandmother. "Can I, PLEEEAASE?"

Maria nodded, unable to find her voice as her emotions were continuing to bubble over. Marco decided to speak up for her.

"I'll even drive you and grandma over there, Ant," Marco stated, blinking his eyes rapidly.

Antonio grinned, bouncing on his knees. His excitement was uncontainable for a few moments, but it quickly began to fade. Once again, the precocious child drew his eyebrows together, gathering up his courage to ask the question weighing heavily on his young mind. "Um… Will she be my Mama forever, or will I have to give her back?"

Maria chuckled at her grandson's comment, her voice finally dislodging around the lump in her throat. "Beverly, we've been visiting the public library for Story Hour a lot, lately," she explained.

Beverly tried to restrain her laughter, not wanting to hurt the youngster's feelings. He had asked a valid question for a four year-old, and she wanted to give him an honest answer. "Antonio," she began, reaching out and grasping the little boy's hands. "I promise you that she will be your Mama forever; she isn't a loan like a library book. And it won't be long before she'll be feeling well enough to move in and live here with you all the time."

The adults watched as Antonio jumped up and raised his hands in the air. "I have a Mama! I have a Mama!" The excited child ran over to his grandmother and leapt into her lap. "I have a Mama, Grandma!"

"Yes, you do. I'm so happy for you," she said, hugging Antonio to her chest. "We've got to get everything ready for your first visit tomorrow. What kind of sandwiches do you want to take?"

As Maria and Antonio began to plan their picnic, Beverly pushed herself off the floor. As she stood, she saw a tanned masculine hand reaching out to her. A feeling she couldn't explain washed over her. She grasped Marco's hand, relishing the warmth and strength she felt as he assisted her off the floor. When she relinquished her grip, she felt him immediately envelope her in a hug.

"Thank you, Beverly," Marco whispered into her ear, smelling the floral scent of her shampoo. "I just can't thank you enough." He held her for a moment more, thinking he felt her relaxing into his embrace. Suddenly, he felt her stiffen and pull away, leaving him fearful that he had overstepped her personal space boundary.

Beverly swiped her fingers beneath her damp eyes. His embrace had been so unexpected, it had caught her off guard. She wanted to sink into his strong arms, but her ever vigilant need for self-preservation had caused her to pull away quickly.

"Um, I'm just glad it all worked out so well," she explained, looking away from him. She couldn't allow her thoughts about the handsome fireman to consume her.

"What time do you want us to be there tomorrow?" Marco asked.

"How about 11:00 am? I'll go back there now and tell Alexia about the meeting. Having a full day to prepare herself will be great. I know it may seem cruel to make her wait, but Antonio needs time to let this whole thing settle in his brain, and honestly, so does she," the counselor explained. She reached down to retrieve her purse and portfolio. "Antonio, Maria, I'll see you both tomorrow, right?"

"Yes," Maria said, moving Antonio off of her lap so that she could stand up.

"You stay here, I can see myself out," Beverly said to Maria, winking at the grinning child tucked in close to his grandmother's side.

"I'll walk you out," Marco said, stepping behind her as she made her way to the front door. He wanted to ask her a question, but didn't want his mother, and especially not his nephew, to overhear. He opened the door and walked out behind Beverly onto the front porch. "May I ask you something?"

Beverly turned around to look at him, anticipating a question about the upcoming reunion. "Of course."

"Um," Marco ran his hand across his mouth, suddenly feeling nervous. "Would you like to go out to dinner with me sometime?"

Beverly gulped. Had she heard him correctly? Her mind seemed to shatter into a hundred possibilities as to why he would ask the question, each one a shiny shard aiming for her jugular. She wanted to believe that the attractive fireman had an interest in her beyond being his sister's counselor, but the truth quickly brought her back to reality. He was only trying to be nice to her, repay her in some way for helping his sister.

"Oh, uh, you don't have to thank me," she said, blushing as she looked down at her feet. "I'm happy to be able to help Alexia and Antonio."

"Well, I am grateful for all you've done to reunite my family, but that isn't the reason for the invitation." Marco shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Was she giving him an easy way out? Was she politely declining his offer? He pressed his lips together tightly, finding the courage he needed to push forward. He needed to know if she was feeling the same thing he was. "I just… I'd really like to spend some time with you, get to know you better."

Beverly was stunned. Never did she think she would be asked out on an actual date. "Really?"

Marco grinned, loving the innocent look on her pretty face. "Yes… Would you like to go out with me, sometime? I mean… Unless you're involved with someone," Marco winced, squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment. "Geez, I'm sorry, Beverly. I didn't even think to ask if you were seeing anyone. Please forgive my forwardness."

"No," she giggled. "No, I'm not seeing anyone, but…" She tilted her head to one side, unable to stop the smile that crept across her face. "You really want to go out with me?"

Marco rolled his eyes in a joking manner. "You're going to make me work for this, aren't you?"

"I'm sorry… Yes, I'd love to go out with you." She still couldn't believe what she was hearing. The thought of being alone with him made her heart flutter. "Um, when?"

Marco smiled, chuckling from deep within his soul. "Whew," he joked, pretending to wipe sweat from his brow. Truthfully, he was very relieved by her acceptance. "Let's see, we'll need to wait until after Lexi and Ant are reunited. I want to be here tomorrow night in case Ant has questions, or if Mama needs my help to calm him down," he snickered, thinking of how hyperactive his nephew could become when he was excited. "I'm on shift Thursday, so what about Friday night?"

"That sounds perfect. Where should I meet you?"

"I don't mind picking you up," Marco offered, always the chivalrous gentleman.

"That's okay. I'll just meet you, if you're alright with that," she commented with a shrug, hoping he would understand how uncomfortable it would be for her to get into a vehicle with a man.

"Oh…," Marco commented, finally understanding what might be going through her mind. "I understand. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to pressure you. How about we keep it casual. I know this great little diner. It's not exactly a classy joint, but it's got the best food and best service in the area."

"Sounds like a great place to get acquainted. What's a good time?" Beverly asked.

"You tell me. I'm available anytime," Marco stated. He wanted to give her as much control over the situation as possible, now that he understood her hesitation to accept his offer to pick her up. He was afraid he had made the date sound too much like a business proposition from her former occupation.

"Okay, I get off work at 4:30 pm, so how about 6:00 pm? That'll give me time to go home and change clothes. I never know where I might end up on any given day, so I don't want to assume I can meet you straight from work," she blushed. She had spent too many work days going through disgusting abandoned houses and rat-infested apartments to meet up with young women who were hiding out, waiting for her to rescue them. She always wore very casual clothes to work, and she wanted to look as nice as possible for him.

"Sounds perfect to me. The diner is called The Pourhouse. It's over in Carson on…"

"I'm familiar with it," she smiled. "I'll meet you there at 6:00 pm on Friday."

"I'm looking forward to it. And I'll see you at 11:00 am tomorrow," he remarked as she turned to leave.

"Yes, see you then," she called over her shoulder, smiling as she practically bounced back to her car. He had actually asked her out on a real date, just like a regular woman. It was something that was so foreign to her, yet something she yearned for. As she backed her car out of the Lopez driveway and headed for home, her old demons began to surface. She couldn't help wondering if he might be simply wanting to offer her a meal in exchange for sexual favors. "NO!" She exclaimed loudly inside her car, slamming one hand against the steering wheel. "He isn't like that. He isn't like that. He isn't like that," she kept repeating to herself. She had to fight the ghosts from her past that kept swiping at her with their icy tendril-like fingers. She had to fight them constantly, but fight them she must. She refused to allow them to ruin her first chance at a normal life.

E!

"How much farther?" Chet called out from the back seat of Johnny's Rover.

Roy rolled his eyes, seeing his partner grimace as he stared straight ahead at the long road ahead of them. "Chet, it's a 120 mile trip. It takes about two and half hours. We've been gone an hour and a half, so do the math."

"Okay, okay… Grumpy DeSoto," Chet stated sarcastically. "I was just askin'."

"A'right, look… We're all worried about Mike, so why don't we just settle down and quit jumpin' down each other's throats." Johnny narrowed his eyes as he drove into the morning sun. He reached onto the dash and removed his aviator sunglasses, donning them quickly. The bright sunshine gave him a perfect excuse for hiding his expressive eyes behind the dark lenses. He was notorious for giving away his true feelings with his eyes, and right now his eyes were displaying his disdain for his smart-aleck lineman friend.

Roy ran his open palm down his face. He knew he needed to admit he had been wrong about Mike. Now seemed as good a time as any to seek atonement. "Listen, I owe you an apology, both of you."

"What's that?" Johnny asked, turning his head to the side.

"I said, I'm sorry… Sorry that I didn't believe you two. I didn't think there was anything to worry about with Mike, but now… Now I'm afraid something is really wrong," Roy stated softly.

"So are we," Chet piped up. "But… Apology accepted. No sweat, man. Just… Just help us find him, okay?"

"Yep," Johnny stated, continuing to drive in a northerly direction. "We're good, partner."

E!

Mike continued to drift in and out of consciousness. Each time he awoke, the unknown man was still with him. He felt the stranger continue to bathe his face with a cool damp cloth.

"Welcome back," James commented, when he saw Mike's eyelids flutter once again. "More water?"

"Pa-lease," the engineer croaked out.

"My name is James," he said, introducing himself. "Help should be arriving soon." He once again poured a tiny amount of water into his hand and allowed it to drip into Mike's open mouth. "Just hang on for a little longer."

A rumbling sound caused James to look up, peeking through the broken out windshield. "And there's some help now."

At the top of the ravine, two delivery trucks arrived followed by a van. Hiram, the self-appointed leader of the Unity family, disembarked from the first rig and began his descent to the wreckage.

"James? I've called the authorities, but it is going to take some time for them to arrive," the long-haired leader announced. "I've brought additional manpower, and our prayer group to give us strength to do what we must for the young man."

"Thank you, Father," James announced, bowing his head slightly as he said the words. He shifted his gaze back down at his charge. "Sir, this is Father Hiram. Can you tell us your name?"

Mike tried to look around, but found his vision obscured by the navy blue clothing of his rescuer. James had shifted his position, yet still firmly held onto Mike's head, and allowed Hiram to kneel down in front of Mike's face. "Mm-ike."

"Mike, my son," Hiram spoke softly, resting his palm across Mike's fevered forehead. "Relax… Rest… You will be free from your bondage very soon."

Mike couldn't explain the reaction he had to the monotone voice of Hiram, but he did feel himself relaxing. Perhaps it was the presence of others, or maybe it was the soothing voice of the older man, but something unseen made his breathing slow, the throbbing in his head to ease, the rushing in his ears to quiet. "M'kay," he whispered.

"James," Hiram spoke to his follower, moving away from Mike and allowing James to resume his previous position. "Remain with Mike while I get the prayers started. The authorities should arrive in about twenty minutes. They will need our assistance, as I am sure you are aware."

"Yes, sir," James said with a nod as he returned to Mike's side. "You just hang in there, Mike. You are doing very well. You will make a full recovery, I am sure."

The tension in Mike's body seemed to fade as he once again sank into the world of unconsciousness. James looked around the inside of the pick-up, wondering how his victim had survived in this environment. He wanted to ask the young man a multitude of questions, but knew he needed to save what little energy he had left. Even after being extricated, Mike would still be half an hour away from the nearest hospital. His survival was not guaranteed.

Hiram walked back up the dusty gentle slope that led back to the roadway. He gathered the small band of followers around him where they formed a circle, hands joined, and heads bowed. "My children, the one in the accident below is in dire need of our intervention." He raised his arms up, his palms facing outward and slowly turned in a clockwise circle.

The group began to rotate counterclockwise, chanting in short syllables as they focused their attention entirely upon the man rotating in the center of the circle.

"Yes, my children. Your faith is strong. Your choruses strengthen me." He continued speaking, his voice growing louder and spurring on the chanters to increase their tempo and volume. "Keep praying, my children."

As the circle moved faster and the voices rose to the point of a frenzy, the faint wail of sirens could be heard across the hillside. Hiram lowered his hands, ushering in the return of calm across the small group. As he slowed his turning, the group released their handholds, steepling their hands beneath their chins with practiced synchronicity.

Hiram smiled, allowing his eyes to make direct contact with the eyes of each of his followers who remained circled around him. As soon as he completed his final pivot, he welcomed them into a group hug. "Well done, my children. Well done." He briefly touched the cheeks of the young women present, patting the tops of the heads of the men. "He will live. You have assured his survival."

Half an hour later, Johnny rounded a curve and was startled by the presence of emergency vehicles crowding the narrow road in front of him. "Uh-oh."

"Whatcha think's goin' on?" Chet called out from the backseat.

"Well it sure as hell ain't the firemen's ball," Johnny grunted sarcastically, opening his door. He loped in front of the Rover, ahead of the other two men from 51's. When he reached the edge of the road, what he saw stole his breath. "Aww, no. NO!" He turned his head back towards his two friends. "It's Mike!" He called out over his right shoulder.

Chet and Roy hurried their pace, catching up with Johnny just as a Kern County Sheriff's Deputy blocked their forward progress.

"Hold up. No one is allowed down there," the stoic officer announced.

"That's our friend down there!" Johnny argued, his arms flailing wildly as he tried to get around the officer. He felt his face turning red from the frustration he was feeling.

"I understand, sir, but let the professionals take care of him," the officer explained.

"We ARE professionals," Chet argued, removing his wallet to display his fire department badge to the deputy. "Officer, ummm… Mendenhall," he read out loud, squinting to read the name plate on the officer's uniform. "We're firemen from LA County."

"You're outta your jurisdiction, son," the cocky deputy spat out. "Now, stand back."

"Look, Roy and I," Johnny interrupted, fanning a hand between himself and his partner, "we're paramedics. We might be able to help out down there."

The annoyed officer took a couple of steps back holding both hands palms out. "Wait here… I'll let the captain know. Stay… I mean it," he warned.

"We're firemen, not foxhounds, you jerk," Roy grumbled, making sure his voice was low enough that he wasn't heard by the officer.

The three men shifted nervously, craning their necks to see what was going on below them. The sound of the hydraulic cutters snapping through the thick metal did nothing to calm their frayed nerves. Johnny propped both hands on his hips, looking around at the strange group of young people gathered near a yellow van on the other side of the emergency vehicles. He noted the two white delivery trucks with bold green lettering on the sides. "Holistic Unity Gardens," he mumbled to himself, his stomach flipping suddenly. He moved his head from side to side, torn between Mike's overturned vehicle and what he hoped was a rescue in progress, and the name he had heard from Iris Campbell just a couple of nights before. "Um, ah," he stuttered, trying to decide what to do, when a shout was heard above the roar of the generator.

"C'MON DOWN," Officer Mendenhall shouted, waving at the three Los Angeles Firemen standing on the side of the road.

Without hesitation, the three men bolted down into the ravine, none of them wearing protective gear. A fire captain met them halfway down the slope. "Hold up," he requested, halting the downward progress of the men. "You men have identification?"

"Yes, sir," the three stated in unison, digging into their wallets again.

"That's our engineer, Mike Stoker, down there. Is he hurt bad?" Johnny asked, looking past the taller man in the striped helmet.

"He's alive, been here for a long time it looks like," the captain stated, glancing at the three identifications being flashed before him. "You say he's an engineer?"

"That's right," Roy spoke up. "We're from 51's in LA County. Chet's a lineman, Johnny and I are paramedics. We'll help in any way we can."

"Right now, we're about ready to extricate. I'm hoping that if he hears voices he recognizes, or sees familiar faces, then it'll help keep him calm. You do understand that I can't let you operate as paramedics here in Kern County."

"Yes, sir… We understand," Roy said, frustrated by his feelings of uselessness. "But, isn't there anything we can do?"

"Yea… I'm short one man, so we'll need your help getting him hauled back up to the top here. We're in the middle of an early flu outbreak. We're short on ambulances, too. The ones we have are already out on runs. I don't want to make him wait on one to become available." He turned, nodding his head at the huddled group standing at the edge of the ridge. "Those holy rollers up there agreed to haul him in the back of one of those delivery trucks. That way we can keep him flat and on the backboard. That's the best we can do. Think you guys can ride along with him?"

"You bet," Johnny spoke up. "You got a portable oxygen tank we can use?"

"No problem. It's all I've got to offer. We don't have the same equipment you boys have down south," the captain said with a grimace. "Maybe one day we'll be equipped like you city boys. Until then, we just do the best we can with what we've got," he said, returning his attention to the shouts coming from the overturned vehicle. Seeing his men moving into position with the backboard, he knew the extra manpower would be needed. "C'mon, fellas."

They quickly shuffled down the slope. "Mike?" Johnny called out when he got closer. "Mike, can ya hear me?"

Mike felt himself being moved, inch by inch. Then he was lifted and placed on a firm surface, making his head ache even worse. He felt dizzy and nauseated, but couldn't speak. He could tell that straps were being tightened down over his body and knew that he was on a backboard. He wanted to shout out his apologies to the men who were rescuing him, knowing how awful he looked and smelled after nearly two days inside his wrecked vehicle. However, he had neither the strength nor the breath to give voice to his thoughts.

As he felt himself being passed off from one set of hands to another, he heard a familiar voice. He struggled to force the darkness back enough to open his mouth. "J…J-John-ny?" He whispered, gravelly.

"Hey, Mikey," Johnny spoke calmly, reaching instinctively for a pulse. He did a quick visual assessment, seeing no obvious deformities, and grabbed for the hand hold nearest him on the backboard. "We're gettin' ya outta here, Pally. You're gonna be fine, jus' fine."

"Hey, buddy," Chet chimed in, getting into position to assist with the backboard as it was passed to him. "You gave us a scare."

"We'll have you at a hospital real soon. Let you get a nice sponge bath from one of those pretty young nurses in the ER," Roy joked, his blue eyes meeting the worried brown ones of his partner. They both knew Mike was in bad shape, but there was nothing they could do for him now except to offer comfort and calming words.

"Where's the nearest hospital?" Johnny asked. "Bakersfield?"

"No, Tehachapi District Hospital is about twenty miles from here. "Deputy Mendenhall will give you a hot escort, but the roads won't let you travel much faster than posted speeds, anyway." The fire captain reached the top of the ravine first, turning toward the leader of the religious zealots who were huddled together near their van. "Which one?"

Hiram knew the captain was asking which delivery truck was to be used as a makeshift ambulance. "That one," he said pointing at the truck nearest the rescuers. James was waiting for them with the back door raised.

"Over here," James called out, motioning to the group.

The captain handed off his end of the backboard to the long-haired Vietnam veteran, then ran back to the engine to retrieve the portable oxygen tank. He returned just as the group of firemen had Mike settled inside the back of the vehicle. "Here," he said, thrusting the oxygen tank in the direction of Chet.

"Got it, thanks, Cap," Chet offered, appreciatively. "We'll make sure you get it back."

"Leave it there. We'll swing by and pick it up after we clean up here. Take care of your man," he stated with a wave, stepping away from the vehicle.

The three men kneeled down around their fallen comrade, worriedly doing whatever they could for him. Roy looked up at Johnny, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Johnny, why don't you let Chet and I ride in with him. You better bring in your Rover. We're gonna need a ride home," he said, stating the obvious. "Besides, nothing we can do without our equipment."

"I know," Johnny acquiesced. He patted Mike's shoulder. "See you at the hospital, Pally," he said before jumping out of the back of the delivery truck, closing the door behind him.

Chet placed the oxygen mask on Mike's face, using the light from the net-covered top to see how to position it correctly. He and Roy felt the rumble of the truck as it moved forward, and heard the sound of the siren as their escort pulled out ahead of them.

Johnny fished his keys out of his pocket, jogging over to his Rover. He cranked it up, and was about to pull out behind the delivery truck, when he noticed a familiar face staring at him from the crowd of religious onlookers. He did a double-take, staring at the young woman dressed in yellow garments, as the look of recognition flashed across her face, as well. "Lily?" He questioned softly.

The young woman stood stunned, unable to breathe as she looked into the eyes of the man she thought she'd never see again. She could read his lips as he silently called her name. "It can't be," she mumbled, covering her mouth with her fingers. "Thorn?"

E!

Alexia stood in front of the stove, stirring the simmering pot of vegetable soup. She stared at the wooden spoon, watching as it swirled around, yet not really seeing anything. She wrapped an arm protectively around her midsection, wondering what was happening at her mother's home. Did her son want to meet her? Would she get to see him soon?

"Smells delicious," Bri complimented, inhaling deeply as she stood beside her friend.

"Hmm?"

Bri draped an arm across the shoulder of her friend. "I said it smells delicious – the soup," she clarified, cutting her eyes downward then back up to face Alexia.

"Oh, thanks," Alexia said with a blush. "It should be ready. How did your session go?"

"Great… I'm going to start going to classes to help me pass my GED. I've got to do that if I want to get a decent job and take care of myself." Bri opened up a drawer, pulling out a trivet to set the pot of soup on. Alexia prepared their drinks while Bri removed soup bowls from the cabinet. No disposable plates or flatware were used at The Wellhouse. The ladies even used cloth napkins. It was understood that many of the women who came through the program needed to learn social skills, and meal times allowed them an opportunity to practice what they were learning.

"That's great, Bri. I'm excited for you." Alexia sat down, unfolding her napkin into her lap. "I guess it's just us?"

"Yea… The others are taking classes at the Tech College. They won't be home until late afternoon. It takes a while for the buses to run out here." Bri tasted the vegetable soup, appreciating the wonderful mixture of flavors that included a few hints of Mexican dishes. "Oh, this is so good. I'm just going to keep gaining weight with all this good food."

Alexia snickered at the thought. "Yea, I'm sure I'll gain a few pounds, too."

Bri smiled, enjoying seeing her friend on the verge of happiness. "You're nervous, aren't you?"

Alexia rested her spoon in her bowl. "Is it that obvious?" She asked, tucking her long dark hair behind one ear.

"A little. Have you heard anything from Antonio?"

Alexia shook her head slowly, her lips pressed together tightly. Beverly is talking to him now," she whispered, wiping away a tear that streaked down her cheek. "What if… What if he doesn't want to see me, Bri? I told Beverly I could handle his rejection, but… Now, I just don't know. I think… I think it'll kill me," she stated, hanging her head.

Before Bri could respond, the happy voice of Beverly filled the void between the two friends. "That's not something you need to worry about."

Both women looked up from their places at the dining room table. Alexia gasped, unsure if she had heard Beverly correctly.

"Um, I… I didn't hear you come in," Alexia commented, her voice trembling uncontrollably. "Did… You…"

Beverly walked over to the anxious young mother. "Yes, I did. And he was so excited. And you have a lunch date tomorrow with the cutest little four year-old I've ever met."

"Really?" Alexia said in a raised voice, unable to contain her excitement.

The look on Alexia's face gave Beverly a sense of déjà vu. She had seen the exact same look on Antonio's happy face. "Yes, really. Your mother and brother are bringing your son over for a picnic lunch tomorrow at 11:00 am." Beverly saw Alexia leap up from the table, her napkin falling to the floor.

"Oh, Beverly! I'm… I'm so grateful, and… Aaauuurrgh….thank…aauughhh…you." Alexia wept tears of joy as she hugged her counselor. She couldn't believe it. In just twenty-four hours she would get to meet her son.

Bri used her napkin to dry her eyes. She was happy for her friend who was about to be reunited with the son she had been forced to abandon as a newborn. Yet, the tears she was shedding weren't just tears of joy for her friend. She found herself crying for her own little one whom she never met. She wept for the child who never had a chance to take her first breath. She cried for the injustice of the man who fathered her unborn baby, and who ultimately was responsible for the fetal demise Bri had experienced. She stood, hugging her friend in a gesture of support, not letting either of the other two women know that she needed their support, as well. As she held onto Beverly and Alexia, she vowed to do what had to be done to vindicate her loss.

E!

A/N: I know this chapter seemed to have more to do with my OC's than our favorite fireman, but I promise I'll have more of our guys in chapter 9. Thank you so much for reading and sharing your thoughts. Your comments spur my muse.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Johnny watched as Hiram placed his hand on Lily's back, ushering her and the other members of the prayer group towards the van. He wanted to follow her, talk to her about leaving the group and returning to her mother, but the sound of Officer Mendenhall's siren snapped his attention back to Mike. He had to follow the delivery truck that had become a makeshift ambulance transporting his friend to the nearest hospital. Now that he knew where Lily was, he would find a way to reconnect with her.

Johnny seemed to be driving on auto-pilot as he followed the delivery truck down the mountain towards Tehachapi District Hospital. The image of Lily Campbell was flashing steadily in his mind. There was no mistaking that it was her. She was older, as was he, but her tanned complexion covering her elongated face were the same. She still had the same thick eyebrows and high cheekbones. Her full lips were just as rosy as he remembered, even without lipstick, and he knew that she still had the same beautiful hazel eyes, even though he had not been close enough to appreciate them. It was her. It was Lily – his Lily.

Mindlessly, he followed the white truck, unaware that they were turning into the hospital emergency entrance. Suddenly jerked back to reality by the bright brake lights of the delivery truck, he nearly had to stand on the brake pedal of the Rover to make it stop without slamming into the back of the larger vehicle.

"Argh, shit!" He groaned to himself, shifting into reverse and backing up enough to allow a stretcher to be placed between the two vehicles.

As fast as lightning, Johnny was out of the Rover and running to the back of the delivery truck. It was obvious that Deputy Mendenhall had radioed ahead because there were two orderlies waiting with a gurney beside the emergency entrance. By the time Johnny had the large rolling metal door opened up, James and Deputy Mendenhall were flanking him.

"They've got bay three ready for him," the officer stated, climbing inside the truck with Johnny.

Chet and Roy lifted the backboard, gripping it near Mike's head, while Deputy Mendenhall and Johnny each took a handhold near Mike's feet. They carefully lowered him to the awaiting attendants and James, who gently set the board on the gurney. The older orderly took the lead, rushing inside the emergency entrance doors heading for the predetermined destination.

Chet watched the defeated look on the faces of both Roy and Johnny as they stood around inside the small emergency room. Grabbing the backs of their shirts, he pulled them away from the flurry of activity. He knew he needed to remind them that this wasn't Rampart, and they weren't in LA County. All they could do was watch and wait.

"C'mon, fellas. We gotta stay out of the way," he said, hoping his voice was calmer than his frantic nerves.

Johnny ran his hand across his upper lip, removing the tiny beads of sweat that had appeared even in the coolness of the sterile emergency room. He watched as skilled hands quickly inserted two IV's of Lactated Ringer's, drew blood, positioned a nasal cannula, and conducted the initial physical assessment. He was pulled out of the bay, watching as the curtains fluttered closed behind him. He followed the tug he felt on his shirt, unsure of where he was being reluctantly led.

The three men made their way to the small waiting area, finding James sitting with his head bowed.

He looked up as he heard the firemen approach. "Any news?"

"They're working on him now. They'll come talk to us when they know something," Roy stated in his most professional tone.

"Mike will be fine. Father Hiram is a prophet, and he has already seen that all will be well with your friend. I hope you find peace in his words," the long-haired man spoke softly, standing to leave. "If my family can help you out in any way, we'll be more than happy to do so. I make deliveries to Los Angeles twice a week. I'll be going back down tomorrow. I'll be happy to give him a ride home, if he needs one," the religious man offered.

"Um, thank you. That's… That's very kind of you," Roy commented, feeling uneasy about the offer.

"Here's our phone number on this form," he stated, retrieving a small slip of paper from his shirt pocket. "It's our business line, but just ask to speak to James," he said, handing the paper to Roy.

Roy accepted it graciously, nodding in James' direction. "Thank you for all you and your, um, your friends have done for Mike. You saved his life."

"Yea… Thanks, man," Johnny finally spoke up, extending his hand in gratitude.

Chet and Roy both followed suit, shaking hands with James as he turned to leave the hospital.

"May you find peace," James added with a reverent bow of his head.

"Yea, peace out, James," Chet called out after him.

Johnny cut his eyes at the lineman, glaring at his perceived ignorance. "That's not what he meant, you idiot," Johnny complained to the Irishman as James walked away.

"I think I'll go find a pay phone and call Joanne… Maybe ask her to call Cap and let him know," Roy spoke softly to his friends. He gave a brief, half-hearted smile to Chet as the lineman met his gaze with merely a nod.

Chet had seen that same forced smile on Roy's face too many times before. It usually was when he was trying to relieve the fears of one of their victims. This time, Chet knew it was meant to relieve Roy's own fears, but Chet wasn't buying it. He wasn't a paramedic, but he knew that Mike was in a bad way. He had worked around the best paramedic team in the county, and he could read them like a book. They were worried, both of them. He and Johnny sat down as they watched Roy walk away, digging into his pockets for a couple of dimes. The lineman's eyes moved from watching Roy's footfalls to Johnny's bouncing knee. The lanky young man had both hands folded, pressing them against his mouth. His dark eyes stared at the nothingness just above his springing knee. Chet had no idea where Johnny was going on his mental excursion, and wondered if it was a more pleasant place than where they currently sat.

Johnny's unexpected brush with a girl from his past, coupled with feeling useless to help Mike, sent him back in time to a long-ago spring morning. He had been hitch-hiking, with only his backpack of meager possessions, which included his 35 mm camera, on his way to follow his heart. When he heard a vehicle coming up behind him, he didn't turn around, but stuck out his left thumb in a silent request for a ride. He had been pleased when the cream-colored vehicle had pulled onto the shoulder of the road just ahead of him.

"Far out!" Johnny exclaimed, as he loped down the lonely empty highway to the place where the station wagon had pulled over. He didn't bother looking at the driver, having grown accustomed to sitting in the backseats of vehicles driven by pot-smoking hippies. With no other traffic on the roadway, he opened the driver's side passenger door, slinging his backpack into the seat and sliding his thin frame along the bench seat. He slammed the door closed with a big grin on his face. "Thanks, man. I really appreciate the…uh," he gulped, looking at the two other people in the station wagon. "Uh, I… Um," he stammered, blown away by the faces of the driver and passenger. "Um… Hi, I'm… Jo-Johnny, Johnny Gage," he said with a wide flirtatious lopsided grin breaking out across his young chiseled face.

"Hi, Johnny," the pretty young passenger spoke up just as the driver pulled back out onto the highway. "I'm Lily," the girl said softly, stifling a giggle at the slack-jawed young man ogling her from the back seat. She waved her hand in the direction of the older woman who was obviously a close relative based on their looks. "This is my mom, Iris."

Iris looked in her rearview mirror, locking eyes with Johnny. "Nice to meet you, Johnny…"

"Johnny," Roy called out, seeing his partner locked in deep thought.

When the younger medic continued sitting while Roy and Chet stood up, Chet reached out to grasp Johnny's arm. "Johnny, c'mon!"

Johnny jerked his arm back reflexively, snatching his elbow out of Chet's reach. "Wha-What?" He asked, narrowing his eyebrows into a vee on top of his dark eyes.

"They said we can see him now, before they move him to a room," the lineman explained, already two steps ahead of Johnny.

"Oh."

As the three men followed the nurse down the short corridor, Chet and Roy exchanged worried looks. Neither man knew what was going on with their spaced-out colleague, but at the moment, their injured engineer was their top priority.

E!

The physician they had seen upon first entering the hospital now stood in front of the x-ray light box staring at a series of skull films. He turned at the sound of the men returning.

"I'm Dr. Buchanan," the physician began, flicking off the light. "Most folks around here call me Dr. Buck. Your friend is one lucky young man."

"How is he?" Chet asked, worriedly.

"Much better than he looks. He's pretty dry, so we're giving him a few bags of fluid. He has several areas of bruising, but no serious injuries." He looked at the three men. "He'll be sore for a few days, but he'll make a full recovery."

"Aw, that's great news, Doc," Johnny said, finally feeling a sense of relief.

"Yes, thank you, Doc Buck," Chet added.

"How long will he need to stay here?" Roy asked.

"We'll see how he feels a little later on. If he's doing well, then he'll be released tomorrow or the following day at the latest." He patted Roy on the shoulder as he walked past him. "We're getting him cleaned up and then moved to a room. Feel free to visit with him for a couple of minutes, but then he needs his rest."

"Yes, sir," Johnny responded for the group. "Um, can one of us stay with him overnight?"

"Sure," Dr. Buchanan responded as he turned to leave.

Chet blew out his breath, looking at the two taller men. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm feeling a lot better about him. Did you get Joanne on the phone?"

"Yes," Roy responded. "She said she'd call Cap. Guess I'll need to call her back in a few minutes and let her know that he's going to be okay."

Johnny looked at the other two men. "Why don't you fellas take the Rover back to LA and I'll hitch a ride with James." Johnny wanted to talk to James more about the Unity Family, his interest piqued by their leader's prophetic words about Mike's condition. It also gave him an excuse to find out more about Lily.

"Are you sure, Johnny?" Roy inquired, sensing something was brewing with his partner.

"Yes, it makes sense. Jo and the kids need you at home." He turned to Chet, "and I'm sure you'd like to see Caroline and Corrie. I don't have anyone waiting for me, so I'll stay."

"Why don't we check on Mike first? Then we can decide," Roy suggested as the three pulled back the curtains to bay three.

Mike lay in a semi-conscious state inside the small emergency room bay. His clothing had been removed and now lay in shards in a wastebasket, his dusty urine-stained shoes sitting on top of the shredded pile. A nurse was preparing to bathe him, making the three men hurry their visit.

"Mikey?" Johnny called out, placing a hand on Mike's bare shoulder. "Mike, can you hear me?"

Blue eyes peeked through fluttering eyelids. Mike turned at the sound of the familiar voice. "J-John?"

"Yea, buddy. I'm here. So are Roy and Chet."

"Hey, man," Chet spoke up.

"Hang in there, Pal," Roy stated, stepping out of the way of the nurse returning with the warm bath water. He appreciated the fact that she had left them alone with their friend for a few moments.

"Ho-hosp-ital?" Mike questioned, with a bit of difficulty. His voice remained raspy.

"That's right, Stoker. This ain't Rampart, but they're takin' really good care of you," Johnny said. "Doc Buck says you're gonna be just fine. You just need a fill-up on Lactated Ringers and some rest."

"That's right, and you're gonna get a nice relaxing sponge bath in just a minute," Chet added.

"Ugh," Mike groaned, trying to lift his head up as he became more aware of his surroundings. Chet's comment about the bath had not yet been fully processed by his tired brain.

"No, no… Just relax, Mike," Chet spoke up.

All three men knew how uncomfortable the next few minutes were going to be for their friend. He was very modest, so allowing an unknown, but very pretty young nurse to bathe him was going to be extremely embarrassing for the quiet engineer.

"But… Uh… Clo-clothes. I… Na-naked," Mike moaned, realizing the state of his partially exposed body.

"That's right… Enjoy this, Mike," Chet chuckled, whispering into Mike's ear. "That's one hot chick who's about to wash your…"

"Let's go," Roy prodded, pushing his adolescent-behaving coworker out of the bay. "We'll see you when you get in a room, Stoker."

The three returned to the waiting area, unsure of what to do next. Johnny was the first to speak.

"Well, I feel a lot better about him. I'm fine with staying here tonight and then calling James tomorrow. Who knows, maybe he can take both of us home," he commented, nodding his unruly-haired head in the direction of Mike's bed.

Chet snickered, feeling a sense of relief. "Yea, but he's gonna need some clothes."

All three men chuckled at the thought of a naked Mike Stoker getting a sponge bathe. All three had had their fair share of hospital time, and knew how vulnerable it felt to be bathed by the nursing staff. They couldn't think of anything more uncomfortable for their reserved friend.

"Hey, Gage… I bet Stoker's got more red skin right now than you do," Chet joked, not recognizing the flash of exasperated anger on his friend's face.

Roy caught the look his partner gave their lineman, but chose to let the subject go. Mike Stoker was going to be fine, and right now they just needed to find him some clothes to go home in. "Why don't we see if we can gather up something for him to wear home?"

"They've probably got some extra scrubs around here, don't ya think?" Johnny asked, happy to change the subject from his heritage to Mike's lack of apparel.

"True," Roy conceded. "Let's find the cafeteria and grab some lunch. By then he should be in a room." He turned to his partner. "Are you sure you're okay to stay overnight and ride back with James? That group seems kind of weird. I can come back and get you tomorrow, if you'd rather do that."

"Naw… I'm sure they're fine," Johnny stated as the three lumbered down the hallway following the signs for the cafeteria. "Besides, I haven't hitched a ride in years."

E!

Alexia sat nervously in the small living room of The Wellhouse. With each tick of the clock, her mind created a countdown to four o'clock. That was when the investigator was to arrive. Alexia had talked with Beverly at length about her picnic date with her son, and the two had decided that she needed to get the interview with Sam Bennett past her before meeting Antonio. Neither of them wanted the stress to interfere with her time with her son. When she had contacted Investigator Bennett, he had been more than happy to meet with her this afternoon.

"Why are you so nervous?" Beverly asked, noting how Alexia was fidgeting in her seat.

"I'm not really sure. Something just sounded suspicious," Alexia responded, looking out the window as the blue pinto pulled through the front gate.

"Just answer his questions and be completely honest," Beverly suggested. "That's all this is… Just an interview to collect facts. You've done nothing wrong." Beverly knew what it felt like to be interviewed. Most former prostitutes were familiar with the process because of their many arrests. She knew that Alexia was feeling like she had broken some law, even though she was the victim in this case.

"That must be him," Alexia stated nervously, seeing an unfamiliar man walking up the front steps.

"Are you sure you want me to stay?"

Alexia looked at Beverly with pleading eyes. "Yes, please?"

"No problem," the counselor stated, walking towards the door when a firm knock sounded.

Sam removed his identification, holding it up for easy viewing when the front door was opened. "Good afternoon, ma'am. I'm Arson Investigator Samford Bennett. I have an appointment with Alexia Lopez."

Beverly opened the door, smiling at the investigator. "Yes, please come in." She closed the door behind him. "Mr. Bennett, this is Alexia Lopez," she said waving her arm at the trembling young woman standing on the other side of the room. "I'm Beverly Marsh, her counselor, and she's asked me to stay for the interview. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes, of course," he said, smiling at the younger woman. "Whatever makes you comfortable, Miss Lopez."

"Um, you can call me Alexia."

Beverly smiled inwardly at Alexia's behavior. Even though the young woman was apprehensive, she was being very polite to the investigator.

"Alexia, you can call me Sam. Please have a seat," he stated, waiting for the ladies to sit down before seating himself. "This is really just an informal interview. I've got some questions about the fire in your apartment."

"I understand."

Sam cleared his throat, preferring to jump right into the questioning in order to see how his respondent reacted. "Ahem, do you remember the fire?"

"A little… I was… I had been beaten, Mr. Bennett, so…"

"Sam," he interrupted.

"Sam," Alexia corrected with a blush. "Um, Ricardo Gomez… He's the man who, uh, who assaulted me. I remember him turning on the stove… It was a gas stove, but…"

When she hesitated, he interjected. "But? Do you remember him starting the fire?" He didn't divulge any additional information about how the fire spread. He didn't want to create false memories for her. He needed to know exactly what she remembered about that night.

Alexia stared at the coffee table. "Um… Not exactly. I remember opening the window. I was…," she cast a glance at Beverly, wondering if she should tell Sam about Michael. When Beverly nodded her head in encouragement, Alexia continued. "I was hoping to see someone who could help me. I… I tried to call out, but I don't think I was loud enough for him to hear me," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Him?"

Alexia swallowed hard. "Michael. He had been nice to me before and I… I saw him… He was parking his truck just outside my building. I… I tried to call out to him, but… I guess I fainted."

"Michael? Is that Michael Stoker?" Sam asked.

"I'm not sure about his last name. He's a… I think he might be a fireman, but I'm not sure," she stated, running her damp palms along the length of her denim-covered thighs.

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He hated to ask the next question, but he knew it might be relevant to the arson case. "I'm, ah… I'm afraid I have to ask you a personal question."

Alexia looked up, anticipating his question. "No… No, he wasn't a john. He never paid me money for, um, for services." Alexia swiped at the corner of her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to have a fresh start, to leave her past behind her, yet it seemed to linger like a shadow.

"But you did have sexual relations with him, right?"

Alexia shook her head. "No… No, we never did anything like that. He just… He bought me food, talked to me, then he'd leave." Her dark eyes looked directly into those of the investigator. "I don't know why, but… That's all he wanted from me… He said he had a friend with a relative in the business and he just wanted some information."

Sam continued taking notes. This was sounding very different from the story his supervisor had deduced based on the circumstances. He reached inside his folder, pulling out a photo of Mike Stoker that he had obtained from the department files. He handed the small black and white photograph to Alexia. "Is this him? Is this the man you're talking about?"

Alexia looked at the handsome face of the man she knew only as Michael. She felt a sense of loss as she looked into the eyes she remembered so well. They were kind and the clearest blue she had ever seen. She didn't realize how much she had missed him until now. "Yes, that's him. That's Michael."

"Well, Alexia. That's Firefighter Specialist Michael Stoker, engineer at Station 51, and it looks like he might have been the one who started the fire," Sam stated, matter-of-factly.

"Fif-fifty-one? Station 51 in Carson?"

"That's right," Sam commented, accepting the picture back from her trembling hand.

"Ohmygod," Beverly gasped, her voice much louder than she had intended it to be. No one, not even Beverly, had realized that Alexia didn't know the true identity of the man who had saved her. "Lexi?"

Alexia felt her shoulders begin to heave as she inhaled a ragged breath. She couldn't stop the tears that spilled onto her cheeks, burning her flesh. Mike had to be a friend of Marco's. That would explain why he refused to have sex with her. And the money he was giving her most likely came from Marco, himself. She covered her face with her hands, weeping openly into her palms. Marco had to be the friend Mike had been referring to which meant that SHE was the relative in the business.

"I'm sorry, Alexia. I didn't mean to upset you," Sam remarked, alarmed by her reaction.

"Her brother, Marco Lopez, works at Station 51," Beverly commented, moving closer to the upset young woman. She pulled Alexia into a sideways hug.

"He knew… The whole time, I thought he really cared about me, but… He was just Marco's friend."

"Sshhh…," Beverly soothed. "That's a good thing, Lexi. It's further proof that your family never gave up on you, even when you thought they did. They were trying to help you. And, it means that Michael Stoker is a really good friend to your brother… And to you, too. Otherwise, he wouldn't have done what he did to help you."

"But it was all a set up," Alexia cried.

"Sounds more like a genuine rescue to me," Sam offered. "That's what firefighters do best." He knew that he needed to leave the upset woman alone, and he figured he had most of the information he needed for his unofficial report. Assistant Chief Hunley was trying to pin an arson case on a man that Sam suspected was innocent. The only question now was why?

He reached into his pocket, removing two business cards and handed them to Beverly. "I'll leave these with you two. If you think of anything else that might help us out, please call me. My number is on there," he said, nodding towards the card. "I appreciate your time, Alexia."

Beverly accepted the proffered cards, nodding her thanks in return. "Thank you for coming by."

"I'll show myself out," Sam stated, standing up and heading for the front door.

Alexia replayed the investigator's comments in her mind. She had been so overwhelmed by the idea that Michael and Marco might be friends, that she didn't fully process the rest of his statements. When she realized that Michael was considered a suspect in the apartment fire, she thought she must have misunderstood the investigator's comments. "Mr. Bennett?"

He turned back around at the sound of Alexia's voice. "Yes?"

"Did I hear you right? You think Michael started the fire in my apartment?"

Sam chose his words carefully. "There's evidence that the fire was deliberately started, and there are reasons to believe that Mr. Stoker might have done it." He didn't want to say anything about the suspicion that Mike was looking for a way to be a hero.

"No… No, that's not right." Alexia vehemently shook her head. "He didn't do it. He didn't start that fire. I think… I think I might have pulled the curtains down on top of the stove. I… I might have started the fire," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Sam felt a sense of compassion for the young woman. All he wanted was the truth about what had happened inside her apartment that night, and he needed to know if Mike Stoker was a perpetrator… Or if he was another victim, much like Alexia. "It's possible that you caught the curtains on fire, if you pulled them down across the open flame… But, did you spill nail polish remover AND cooking oil on the table and cabinets?"

She shook her head negatively, lowering her red-rimmed eyes to her lap. Even though she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mike was innocent, her worst fears were coming true. Ricardo really had tried to kill her, just like he had tried to kill Bri. She couldn't allow Michael to be blamed for something her pimp had done to her, even if the handsome fireman had only been acting as a friend to Marco. "No… Ricardo must've done that. He was so angry that day… It had to be him."

"Are you positive that Mr. Stoker wasn't the one who did it? You said you blacked out," he reminded her.

"Not until after I saw his truck parking outside my window. By then, the apartment was already filling up with smoke. Michael… He wouldn't have hurt me like that," she mumbled. "It was Ricardo. He did it. I'm sure of it."

Sam pressed his lips into a thin line of frustration. It really didn't matter what she thought had happened. They needed to know exactly what she remembered. Unfortunately, it seemed that Alexia had been too injured, too traumatized to remember all of the details of the incident. "Then maybe Ricardo is the arsonist," he stated, trying to help settle her mind.

Alexia nodded in agreement. "He is… He did it to Bri, too."

Sam had made a lot of progress in a short time, but he didn't want to push his luck. "I didn't mean to upset you. Maybe we can talk again later. And, uh… Do you think Bri will agree to meet with me?" He hoped the other young woman might be able to remember more about her assault than Alexia seemed to remember.

"Maybe. I can ask her," Alexia offered, still wiping her damp cheeks.

"That would be great. And, Alexia… One more thing… You may be asked to testify at a hearing. Can you do that?"

She gulped, assuming that the hearing Sam was referring to was related to the accusations being made against Michael. She was unsure if she could ever face the engineer again. She certainly didn't think she could tell her story in front of a group of men, men her brother worked for. She had brought enough shame on her family already. Would the important people in the fire department believe a woman like her, if she was called upon to testify of Michael's innocence? "I don't know. I'll… I'll think about it."

E!

By the time the sun set, Mike was sleeping soundly in a private room at Tehachapi District Hospital. Roy and Chet had said their goodbyes to their injured friend, unsure if he would remember their visit, then headed home in Johnny's Rover. Johnny had made contact with James who had agreed to call the hospital before heading out for Los Angeles in the morning.

Johnny sat in the silent hospital room with only the occasional squeaky wheels of a cart rolling by the door to break up the monotonous silence. He stared out the window at the fading orange remnants of light, thinking back over the time he had spent traveling with Iris and Lily. It was spring and 16 year-old John Gage had left home against his parents' wishes. They knew he had to follow his own dreams, and so, they did not stop him. They worried about him, as all good parents would, but he had agreed to call home frequently. He assured them that he was being led by a Higher Power that would protect him on his quest. Meeting Iris and Lily provided him with more than just a ride; they had given him confirmation that what he was doing was truly following his destiny. He loved the carefree lifestyle of Iris and Lily. They were free spirits who were following the same quest as Johnny. Their bond was instant.

Lily was only 15 years old, but she wasn't in school. Iris had decided to teach her what she needed to know and then allow her to take her GED. She had watched her daughter suffer day after day during elementary school, and felt that Lily would learn more from life than from any classroom. The young girl was alluring. Her bone structure was so similar to that of her mother, but her skin tone and hair were darker. No one ever mentioned Lily's father, so Johnny didn't ask, but he assumed that her darker colorings were contributed by the paternal side of her family, which made him immediately feel connected to her. His own dark hair and tanned skin had been handed down to him from his father. As a young man whose blood was boiling with testosterone, he found himself staring at her beauty often over the next few days as they traveled across the country together. He was grateful that he was alone in the backseat as they traveled because her image was having a noticeable effect on his lower anatomy.

Across the hospital room, Mike was trapped in a dream world from which he could not awaken. "Ugh… Um... Mmm." He smacked his dry lips together, unable to vocalize his fears.

Johnny was snatched from his memories by Mike stirring in his hospital bed. He moved closer to his friend, lightly placing a hand on the engineer's shoulder. He could tell by Mike's facial expressions that the engineer was in the grips of a nightmare.

"Hey, Mike? Take it easy, Stoker. You're going to be fine, jus' fine."

Inside Mike's muddled brain, he thought he was still trapped inside his truck, waiting for the mountain lion to return for her next meal. He felt a tugging along his lower left arm, pressure on his left shoulder, and panic suddenly shoved him from his dream state towards consciousness.

Johnny noted the faraway look in Mike's blue eyes when his eyelids parted slightly, realizing that his friend wasn't fully aware of his surroundings. His first concern was for the integrity of the remaining intravenous line. He didn't want the cannula to become dislodged. Immediately, he held onto Mike's arms, preventing the injured man from pulling out his IV, causing further injury.

"Mike… C'mon, Mikey."

"Gah," Mike groaned, still trapped somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. He felt the pressure on his arms, not allowing him to move. He could feel the tape pulling painfully at the hairs on his forearm. In his dream-state, he mistook the tugging of the tape for the puncture of claws. He opened his mouth to scream curses at the vile predator, unable to defend himself against the impending attack, when a familiar voice grasped his consciousness and pulled him out of the jaws of the apparition.

"Wake up, Stoker. Michael Stoker!"

"Argh!" He called out, gasping for air, his eyes darting around wildly. "Ugh… Oh…mygod," he panted, trying to settle his breathing.

"Easy, Pal. Jus' take it easy. You're safe," Johnny soothed, slowly relinquishing his pressure on Mike's arms. "Just a dream, pally."

"J-Johnny," he huffed, closing his eyes and relaxing against his pillow. Perspiration began to appear along his brow, rolling down the side of his face, and pooling along his collarbone. His respiration rate was still too rapid, preventing him from forming complete sentences. "Buck, killed a… Buck, and…"

Johnny had no idea what Mike was trying to say. When he heard the word Buck, Johnny assumed that Mike was referring to his attending physician. "Yea, he's great. Buck said you'd be fine. Jus' need a little rest."

Mike tried to swallow, but found his mouth still dry. He knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. What was Johnny telling him? "Buck! Hit…buck… and," he stammered.

"No you didn't. That was me holding your arms down. You were having a nightmare, Mike. It's understandable, but… You didn't hit Buck."

"No… Ran into… Buck," his panting continued, nearing a state of panic at his inability to communicate with his friend.

"No… Mike, you were in an accident in your truck. You were trapped for a while, but you're out now. You're in a hospital in Tehachapi. You're goin' to be jus' fine. Dr. Buck checked you out real good, as soon as we got you here."

"Ugh… No… Moun-mountain lion… chased buck, and…," he argued, his breathing settling back into a regular rhythm.

"Mike, listen to me. Dr. Buck is fine. He was just in here a little while ago. You were havin' a bad dream, that's all." Johnny desperately wanted to make his friend understand his current circumstances.

"Wha… No, no. John, I hit…," he gulped once more, squeezing his eyes closed. "Hit a buck with my… my truck and… And wrecked, but a… Mountain lion got him and…"

Johnny's confused expression softened, and his lopsided grin returned. "Oohhh, you mean… You hit a deer, a buck, and that's what caused you to wreck?"

"Yea…" Mike paused, licking his sticky lips, and allowing a slight grin to form. "What…the hell… You talkin' about?"

Johnny shook his shaggy head, chuckling to himself about the misunderstanding. "Your attending physician's name is Buchanan. He said people call him Buck. I thought you were confused, and…"

"Now… I'm confused, ugh," Mike grunted. "Don't do that…to a guy who's been… stuck in a truck… With a big cat…prowling around," he snickered.

"Ahaha, oh, Chet woulda got a kick outta this conversation," Johnny laughed, relief flooding his soul. "Can I get ya anything? Water, ice?"

"Yea, please," Mike agreed, chuckling to himself about the misunderstanding. The laughing relaxed him enough to allow other body urges to make themselves known. "Uh… John?"

"Yea?" Johnny stated, pouring Mike a cup of cold water from the pitcher the nurse had left at his bedside. He looked up, seeing Mike trying to remove the blankets from his legs. "Ohhhh… Yea, you should be about full. That's your third bag of fluid."

Johnny saw the pained expression cross Mike's face as he struggled to move his bruised legs over the edge of the bed. "Let's take it slow. You might still be dizzy from the morphine." Johnny grabbed the IV line, keeping it free while he positioned the IV pole nearer to Mike as the engineer slowly slid off the bed to a standing position.

"Gotta piss, Gage. Now!" Mike argued good-naturedly.

"Okay, okay," Johnny jested, allowing Mike to lean against him for support as they slowly made their way towards the bathroom. The relief Johnny was feeling about Mike's condition left him in a silly mood. As soon as he knew Mike was steady on his feet and reaching for the bathroom door, Johnny released a slow cat-call whistle.

"What?" Mike asked, pulling his IV pole along.

"That foxy redheaded nurse who bathed you was right. You do have a cute ass," he laughed.

Mike rolled his eyes. "Then why don't you kiss it?" Mike joked, trying to hold the back of his hospital gown closed as stepped into the bathroom.

Johnny waited outside the door, ready to rush in if Mike needed him. He wondered how to broach the subject of the accusations against Mike. He knew that Mike was unaware that the other guys knew about his predicament. He decided to wait until Mike brought it up, or until they got back to Los Angeles. Right now, Mike needed to rest and recuperate. The conversation could wait at least one more day.

E!

A/N: I want to thank everyone who has supported me with this series. I know many of you are wanting to read about the reunion between Alexia and Antonio. I promise it will be coming in chapter 10. Hanky alert!


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Bri and the other ladies at The Wellhouse knew that something was wrong with Alexia. They sat around their dinner table eating their evening meal, but Alexia merely pushed her food around on her plate. Each resident had experienced her ups and downs so the behavior they were seeing in their newest housemate wasn't all that unusual. Bri waited until they all retired for the night before broaching the subject.

Alexia sat on her bed, her back leaning against the corner of the wall. She raised her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. When Bri walked in from her shower, Alexia barely noticed.

Bri towel dried her hair, combing through her damp locks as she used her mirror to discreetly watch her roommate. She saw how the young woman stared at the blanket, her face a mixture of sadness and fear. Bri knew that she was nervous about the impending meeting with her son, but she also knew that something was wrong. Alexia should have been bubbling with excitement, not catatonic from fear.

"Lex?" Bri asked, turning around and facing her friend. "Lex, talk to me. What's happened to you? What's wrong?"

Alexia slowly raised her eyes upwards, looking at her roommate with a face strained with emotions. "I'm af-fraid."

Bri's heart broke at the sound of her friend's voice cracking. She sat down beside Alexia on the bed, reaching out to the hurting woman. "No… Don't be afraid, Lex. He's excited to meet you; you heard Beverly."

Alexia sobbed as she leaned her head against Bri's shoulder. "It's never going to go away, never. I'll always be a…a tramp, a hooker, a whore. He's going to hate me when he's old enough to understand what I did," she cried.

Bri ran her hand down the back of Alexia's head, hoping to comfort her friend. "He'll understand that you loved him enough to save his life, Lex. That's what he's going to understand. You had no choice and neither did I. We didn't choose this life, but we're choosing to do what we must to get out of it."

"How can I get out of it when it keeps following me?" Alexia cried, pulling back from Bri, and leaning against the corner of the wall again. She pressed her head back, staring at the ceiling as she wiped her face with her hands. "It was all a lie, Bri… Michael…," she heaved, gulping for air to fill her lungs so she could continue. "Michael and Marco are friends, coworkers. He was just being nice to me because of my brother. Now… Now the fire department thinks he's the one who started the fire in my apartment instead of Ricardo. I… I may have to testify at a hearing… in front of all the important men that Marco works for… And…," she paused, hiccuping as she fought past the lump in her throat. "Then everyone will know and, Antonio… Someone will tell him. I just know it," she sobbed.

"Slow down, Lex," Bri stated, placing her hands on Alexia's shoulders to ground her. "First of all, he's only a child. No one is going to tell him anything right now. By the time he's old enough to understand, you will have proven to him that you are a wonderful loving mother. Then it won't matter what anyone says. As for Michael, so what? He didn't do it. Ricardo did. It'll come out in the investigation. Besides, he's just a guy, that's all. There's plenty of fish in the sea," she quipped, knowing that Alexia had been falling for Michael.

"You aren't listening to me, Bri," Alexia argued. "He saved my life, and he got in trouble for it. No matter why he was meeting with me, he still saved my life. It's wrong that he's in trouble now. One of the county arson investigators came by here today. He took my statement, and it… It sounds like he, Sam, might believe me, but I don't know if the others will. I just don't know, Bri. I don't know if I can tell about what happened to me. And, I don't know if I even want to," she whispered. She didn't want to tell her friend that she couldn't bare seeing Michael after finding out that he had tricked her.

Bri shook her head in confusion. She wasn't sure if Alexia was angry with Michael, or if she felt sorry for him. Bri was trying to sort through the maze of statements her roommate had just thrown at her. "Wait, wait, wait… Are you saying that Michael is being accused of starting the fire that Ricardo started? And, you don't want to stand up for him because of what Antonio MIGHT years from now, IF somebody tells him that you were a lot lizard after he was born?"

"YES!"

"Lex…," Bri hesitated, waiting for Alexia to look at her before she continued. "Would you LISTEN to what you're saying? Maybe you should be thinking about how Antonio will react when he finds out that you DIDN'T defend the man who brought you and him back together."

Alexia sat in stunned silence. In her hours of panicked thinking, that idea had never crossed her mind. She dried her eyes, slowing her breathing as she contemplated what Bri had just said. "Ohmygod, Bri… You're right. I-I can't let Michael lose everything when he… He's brought me back to my…my little boy," she stammered. Suddenly, she recalled Sam's request. "He… Sam Bennett, the arson investigator, he wants to talk with you, too. Michael's being accused of starting the fire in your apartment."

"WHAT? I've never even met the man. Why would he set my apartment on fire?" Bri questioned.

"He didn't, Bri. We both know who did do it," Alexia pointed out.

"Ricardo. He beat me up and… And made me lose my baby," Bri commented in a shy voice, her hand immediately rubbing her lower abdomen. "Why the hell would the fire department think their own man did it?"

"There's his card," Alexia said, pointing to her nightstand. "Maybe you should ask him."

Bri picked it up, reading the name and address on the card. Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head when she read the name of the Fire Marshall. She knew him well, and she knew the truth about the kind of man he really was. "Why does Mr. Bennett want to talk to me? Sounds like they've already made up their mind. I gave a statement to the cops, isn't that good enough?"

"He wants to hear it from you directly, I guess. He's trying to see if we remember Michael starting the fires… Or if we remember seeing Ricardo do it."

Brittany swallowed hard. This might be her only chance to tell the truth about what had happened to her and her baby. As difficult as it would be, she knew that this was her chance to settle the score, to right the wrong that had been committed against her and her unborn child. She flipped the card over and over in her hand as she considered her options.

"I'll do it. I'll talk to him. I remember Ricardo pouring something on the table and setting it on fire. I was in so much pain, and was so dizzy from the punches that… I couldn't stop him." Her eyes had glossed over as she remembered that painful day. "He lit his cigarette, then dropped the match onto the table beside a stack of paper napkins and crumpled newspaper. I smelled the smoke, but I couldn't move. All I heard was the window opening. I knew he was going down the fire escape… And that he had left me there to die."

"I'm sorry, Bri. I'm sorry for what you went through, but… Ricardo needs to pay the price for what he did. I'll testify, if you'll testify, too. I'll feel better about it if I know you're there with me," Alexia pleaded, seeing the distraught look on her friend's face. They both needed to do this. Ricardo needed to be punished, and the truth about Michael needed to be told.

"Yes… Yes, you're right. I'll do it. He needs to be stopped so this doesn't happen to anyone else," Bri commented, picking up the card. She wasn't ready to tell Alexia everything about that terrible day. She still had a secret that only a couple of people knew about… A secret that she was willing to share with Sam IF he seemed trustworthy. There were two people responsible for the death of her child. And they both needed to pay the price for the life they took.

E!

Back at the hospital, Johnny stretched out in the uncomfortable chair in Mike's room. His long legs extended beneath the hospital bed, and his elbows rested on the arms of the chair. He leaned his head back, struggling to get comfortable. He hoped that Mike was resting better than he was at the moment. When he heard Mike speak, he knew his friend was struggling to sleep, too.

"John? You awake?" Mike whispered.

"Yea… You need something?" Johnny responded, sitting up in the unforgiving chair.

Mike fumbled around for the button to raise the head of his bed. When the squeaking whine of the motor stopped, Mike shifted his aching muscles to get a better look at his friend. "No… I just want to ask you a question."

"Sure, whatcha wanna know?" Johnny asked, his crooked grin making a brief appearance on his face.

"How did you know where to find me?"

Johnny's chin dropped slightly, leaving his mouth gaping open. He had planned on discussing Mike's situation after they returned to Los Angeles. He didn't want to further upset the man. He had been through enough in the last couple of days. Now, he was being asked a direct question, and the only way to answer it was with the truth.

"Your, ah… Your landlord told us you'd gone camping. He told us what you took and that gave me an idea 'bout where you'd gone. So, we just went lookin' for ya 'cause you didn't come home when you were s'posed to," he said, shifting his eyes to avoid direct eye contact with his inquisitive friend.

Mike narrowed his eyes, glaring at his evasive coworker. "Us? Why were you fellas looking for me?"

"Mike, promise you won't get mad?"

"No," Mike responded, sensing where the conversation was going. "Hank told you, didn't he?"

"Oh, he's 'Hank' now? What happened to 'Cap'?" Johnny asked, seeing the anger raging across Mike's pale face.

"He lied to me. I've got no use for a damn liar," Mike cursed, the words sounding foreign even to his own ears.

Johnny leaned forward in his seat, his own back aching. "Lied to you? What do you mean by that? He's never lied to any of us, Mike. Cap is as straight as an arrow, for cryin' out loud!"

"He lied to Chet about the eye chart, remember that? Don't say he's never lied," Mike responded, his face red with fury.

"We ALL lied to Chet about that stupid eye chart, Mike. It was just a joke. What's got you so pissed off? We know you didn't do it. We're all supportin' ya."

Mike sat up a little straighter in his bed, fighting to untangle himself from his blankets. "ALL? ALL? Everybody knows?" He slammed his head back against his pillow, wincing at the pain the action caused. "Shit!"

"Hey… Take it easy, Mike. You're gonna hurt yourself more. It's no big deal. You didn't do it. They'll see," Johnny argued, concerned for his friend's health as much as for his reputation.

Mike shot a glare at Johnny, pinning the thin paramedic in his chair. "Yea… They'll see me in the unemployment line. Damn it, Johnny," he began, his blue eyes shimmering as he stared at the wall. "What did I ever do to deserve this?" Mike asked, waving his hand across his legs. "All I was trying to do was help Marco's sister… I didn't do anything wrong, but…." He blew out his breath, puffing his cheeks. "I guess no good deed goes unpunished."

Johnny's countenance fell watching his friend struggling with his circumstances. "I know it seems that way, Mike, but… Look, we all knew something bad had happened, and we forced Cap to tell us. He didn't want to, but we just made him do it," Johnny stated, hoping Mike believed him.

"You made him? He's the captain and YOU made HIM tell what I asked him to keep in confidence? Not likely," Mike smirked.

Johnny stood up, stretching his back as he began to pace around in the small room. "Why? Why didn't you trust us, Mike?"

"What?"

Johnny turned around, propping a hand on his hip. "Why didn't you trust us enough to tell us what was goin' on? We trust you with our lives on every shift, but you couldn't trust us with this… this false accusation? You've got our backs all the time, Mike. Why don't you trust us to have yours?"

Mike bit his bottom lip, holding it between his teeth. Johnny's question was a good one. The only problem was, he didn't have a good answer for it. "I, um, I don't know."

"Actin' kinda uppity, aren't ya?" Johnny realized he had the upper hand in the conversation, and he wasn't going to let it slip away. "You bein' a big shot engineer doesn't make you any better than the rest of us, ya know?"

Mike nodded, looking down at his lap. Johnny was right and Mike knew it. "I… I guess I was just ashamed of… Ashamed of what those two fellas were saying about me. I…," he looked up at Johnny. "No…," he licked his lips. "No, that isn't entirely true. I was ashamed of being with Marco's sister. I didn't want anyone to know what I had done."

Johnny arched an eyebrow at the contrite man. "What you'd done? You saved her life. Why are you ashamed of that?"

"I just didn't want anyone to know that I had spent time with her because I knew they would think I'd had sex with her." He looked up at Johnny. "She needed help; she was a victim, and I was ashamed of being seen with her."

"You mean because she was a pro… ah, a workin' girl?" Johnny cringed, wishing the word was easier for him to say.

"I'm pathetic," Mike whispered, further torturing himself. "I was so worried about what people would think about me, that I didn't even think about how she might've felt. I mean, I wanted to help her, I really did. But, I wanted to do it as much for Marco as I did for her."

"Nothin' wrong with that, Pal. Marco's a great guy, a good friend." Johnny saw the remorseful look on Mike's face. "Look, it's over. She's safe. Now we've just got to get you past these two idiots at headquarters and everything will work out jus' fine. You'll see."

"I don't know. If Marco ever found out the truth, he'd never forgive me."

"You're secret's safe with me. We've all been in positions that we'd rather not have been in… Done things we don't feel comfortable tellin' even our closest friends about. Now, you jus' relax and get some rest. I think Buck will let you go tomorrow and we'll head back to LA with James. Then we can work on clearin' your name, a'right?"

Mike slowly nodded his head in agreement as he pressed the button to lower the head of his bed. Johnny helped him straighten out the blanket enough to cover his long legs, then turned out the light. His narrow hips slid across the plastic chair with a squeak. He tried to settle his hyperactive brain enough to get a little rest himself, but Mike's voice interrupted his concentration.

"Hey, Gage?"

"Yea?"

"Who's James?"

"Oh, man… You really were out of it, weren't ya, Stoker?" Johnny snickered. "I'll explain it all tomorrow."

E!

Dawn's first light stretched across the expanse of the Los Angeles morning sky, the shards of light slowly inching their way toward the Pacific Ocean. Beneath the pink and coral canopy, The Wellhouse was quiet. Alexia lay in bed, nervously shaking her right foot as she stared at the window, willing the morning sun to make its appearance. She had spent many long nights on the streets of various cities across the Southwestern United States, shuffling from one truck stop to another along the Santa Monica Freeway, one customer to another, but never had a night seemed as long as the one she had just endured. Sleep had eluded her, seeming to run from her as surely as she had run from her family. Today was the day all the running would end. Today, she would finally meet the child she had abandoned as an infant in order to save him from a horrible fate. This was the moment she had been hoping for, dreaming of, praying she would live to see.

"Did you sleep at all?" Bri asked, rolling over in her bed to look at her roommate.

"No… Why are you awake so early?" Alexia asked, staring at the alarm clock.

Bri pointed her skinny finger at Alexia's foot swishing beneath the covers. The light in the room was barely enough to see by, but it was enough for Alexia to understand what she meant.

"Oh… Am I making too much noise?"

"A little," Bri snickered. "It took me a minute to figure out what that sound was. At first I thought it was someone sweeping in the hallway," she said, laughing out loud. She hoped her attempt at humor might relieve some of the nervousness of her friend. When the swishing continued, she knew it hadn't worked.

"I've got to get up," Alexia huffed, tossing the covers off of her body and standing up to stretch. "I can't just lay there anymore."

Bri watched for a few minutes as Alexia fumbled around in the darkened room. "I'm awake. Just turn on the light. It's okay."

Alexia flipped on the light in her sparse closet, searching through the few hanging clothes she owned. "I don't know what to wear, or how to do my hair and make-up, or… Or even how to act. I'm… I'm a mess," she said, sniffling as she continued to push the hangers across the metal bar with a scraping sound.

Bri threw her blanket off of her legs, swinging them over the edge of her bed. She stood up, adjusting her long nightshirt to cover herself, then walked up behind her nervous friend. "Heeyyy," she crooned, placing both hands on Alexia's upper arms to still her jerking movements. "It doesn't matter what you wear, or whether your hair is in a ponytail or down around your shoulders. It won't matter if you apply your make-up like a model, or if you don't wear any at all. That little man of yours is going to be so happy to see you, he won't even care, Lex. He just wants his Mama."

Slowly, Alexia turned around finding herself enveloped in the embrace of the only true friend she had known since childhood. She trembled from her shoulders down to her knees, worried about the impending visit. "Ohmygod, Bri… I can't… I can't do this. I just can't," she cried.

"Can't do what?" Bri questioned, rubbing soothing circles along Lexi's back.

"I can't face him. I just can't," she sniffled, holding onto Brittany as if the other woman were a life preserver and Alexia was about to go under for the third time.

Bri remained silent for several long moments, allowing Alexia to expend her energy weeping over what had happened when she last saw her infant son. She knew she had no words of comfort to offer, nothing to remove the pain her roommate was experiencing. Alexia was grieving for the loss of the infant she hadn't been able to care for. She had missed his first smile, his first words, his first steps. She hadn't been there for his first tooth, his first birthday, or his first haircut. Bri was beginning to understand that motherhood wasn't something that could be turned on and off like electricity. It was a love, a bond that begins before the first fluttering movements inside the womb, and it never ever fades, even when death robs mother and child from meeting face to face. She knew that Alexia was a young woman floating along on a maternal wind that kept tossing her to and fro between grief and elation, searching for a firm footing on which to land. She just hoped that Alexia would be strong enough to stand against the evil voices from her past that kept shouting insults at her, kicking her when she was down, and creating an invisible barrier between her and her young son.

"Look at me, Lexi," Bri said, holding the weeping woman at arm's length. "You've got to pull yourself together. The worst part is over – it was over nearly five years ago. The night you left him on your mother's front porch was the worst night you ever endured, wasn't it?"

Alexia nodded in agreement, looking at her friend from beneath swollen eyelids.

"Then what do you have to be afraid of now? You've already been through hell, Lexi. It's time to enjoy a little piece of heaven that's gonna be here in just a few hours. Don't let him see you like this. He's gonna remember this day for the rest of his life. Don't let the first image of his Mama be of you crying your eyes out, like you're hurt or something. It'll scare poor Antonio to death. He needs to see his Mama happy, Lexi. He needs to see that you're happy to see him, happy to hold him, happy to finally get to be with him."

"I… I don't think…"

"Nu-uh, no more saying that you don't think you can do it. You CAN do it and you WILL do it. You HAVE to do it." Bri pulled Alexia into a sideways hug, walking with her over to her bed. They both sat down for a few minutes while Alexia caught her breath. "Now… You need to go get a shower, and wash away those tears. I'll help you find something to wear and I'll even help you with your hair and make-up, okay?" Brittany offered, hoping the normal routine might help Alexia to settle down.

"Bri?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you," Alexia whispered. "Thank you for being my friend."

"You're welcome, Lexi. Thank you for being my friend, too. We're gonna get through all of this, I promise," Bri stated softly, tilting her head until the two of them were leaning on each other, physically and emotionally.

E!

At the Lopez home, little Antonio was as excited as he had been on Christmas morning. He bolted from his bed, rushing into his grandmother's bedroom, jarring her from a sound sleep.

"Grandma! Grandma! Is it time?"

Maria pulled back the covers, inviting her grandson to crawl into bed with her for a few minutes of snuggling. She hugged him tightly to her ample bosom, feeling his little heart pounding inside his chest.

"Almost, little one. I'm so happy for you. Did you know that when your Mama was a little girl, she and I would snuggle just like this?" She asked, running her hand along his back. There was so much she wanted to tell him about his mother, but she knew he needed to meet her first. There would be time for story-telling after today's big event.

"You knew my Mama when she was a little girl?"

"I sure did. I'm HER Mama, remember?" Maria commented, hoping to help him understand their relationship a little better.

"Before she got sick?"

"Yes, Ant… Long before she got sick. But," she said, smacking a kiss on his forehead. "She is feeling much better now. Soon, she'll be coming back home to live with us, okay?"

"Yippeeeee!" The little boy said, bounding to his feet on the bed and jumping up and down, unable to contain his excitement.

"Antonio, no jumping! You might get hurt," Maria said, pulling the child down by his pajama top.

A dark shadow covered the little boys face as he complied with his grandmother's scolding order. "If I get hurt… Will I go away, too?"

Maria sat up in bed, cupping Antonio's face with her trembling hands. "Oh, no, no, no. You might have to go to the doctor, but you won't go away like your Mama did. She had a special kind of sickness, sweetheart. But, that's all over now. You don't have to ever worry about getting hurt or sick and going away," she reassured him, sitting up and slipping her feet into her house shoes. "Let's go get breakfast started. We've got a very exciting day ahead, don't we?"

"YEAH!" Antonio shouted, pumping his small fists into the air.

E!

Mike groaned as he shifted in his hospital bed. The soreness from his entrapment was beginning to make its presence known as the pain medication faded from his system.

"Mornin'," Johnny yawned, sitting up in his chair, his own fatigued muscles groaning from maltreatment in the uncomfortable chair. "How're ya feelin'?"

"Like hell. Feels like I've been cramped up inside a piece of twisted metal," Mike snorted.

"Yea… soreness is always worse the second day. Maybe they'll give ya a little shot of morphine before they let ya go."

Mike flexed and extended his toes, stretching his abused muscles. "Think they'll let you spring me?"

"I don't see why not," Johnny reassured. "You're oriented, your kidneys have been functioning. Other than pain management, which some pills will do, there's really nothing else for them to do for you here." Johnny stood up, stretching his back and reaching for the ceiling with his arms. "Ohhh, I need coffee." He looked at his bruised friend. "Need me to help you get to the bathroom before I search for some caffeine?"

"Um, yea… That'd be great, John," Mike commented. "But… No peeking at my ass," he snickered.

The two men slowly shuffled across the room, dragging the IV pole behind Mike. Johnny waited patiently outside the bathroom door while Mike took care of his personal needs. It took a couple of minutes to complete the task of relieving himself and returning to the bed. As soon as Johnny had him tucked back beneath the blankets, he patted his engineer on the shoulder.

"I'm glad you're okay, man. You gave us quite a scare."

"Yea… Sorry…," Mike looked up, seeing no judgment in the brown eyes looking back at him. "Sorry I didn't want you fellas to know."

"Hey, don't sweat it. We're all gonna stand by ya, Stoker. We're brothers, family." Johnny reassured him, his lopsided grin decorating his handsome face.

E!

"Antonio, are you ready to go?" Marco asked, gathering up the picnic basket and heading for the front door. He had watched his mother lovingly prepare the homemade treats. She had packed up fresh-baked chips with salsa, enchiladas, sopapillas with powdered sugar, and two large thermoses of lemonade. Marco opened the front door for his mother, seeing how her face glowed with joy for the impending introduction of Antonio to Alexia.

"I got my farm animals and this picture I colored for her," Antonio stated proudly, holding up a picture of a smiling woman and a small boy.

Marco snickered at the plump version of Alexia that the youngster had drawn, his grin dropping when he realized that Antonio's only point of reference was his grandmother. The child had no idea what his mother looked like now. The only pictures he had seen were the ones Maria had shown him of Alexia when she had been a young teenager. More recent pictures of Alexia in the Lopez family photo album were noticeably absent.

As the trio stepped out on the front porch, Antonio set his barn-shaped plastic carrying case down on top of his picture, then ran down the steps and around the side of the house.

"Ant! Antonio, where are you going?" Maria called after the departing child.

"I gotta get something," he tossed over his shoulder.

"Go ahead and get in the car, Mama. I'll get him," Marco commented, setting the picnic basket down beside Antonio's carrying case and placing the farm set and drawing inside of it. He put it inside the car, then headed around the side of the house to retrieve the wayward child.

Moments later, Marco returned holding his nephew's hand, the fingers on his free hand swiping at his tear-streaked face. Antonio walked beside him, proud and tall. A bright smile adorned his round cherubic face, and in his hand he held four red spider lilies that had been growing wild beside the Lopez home.

E!

Alexia sat alone on the seat of the picnic table in the back yard of the house she now called home. Her wavy dark hair was held away from her face by a multi-colored headband. Her dark eyes blankly stared at the chipping paint on the edge of the wooden table. She slowly closed her eyes, feeling as if her future might be chipping away, as well. This was it, the moment she had been longing for since she had abandoned her newborn baby boy. Yet, she felt more anxiety than elation. She had endured so much in the past five years. However, nothing she had been through could possibly prepare her for the rejection she feared she would receive when Antonio met her. She wondered what might be going through his mind. Would he ask her why she left him? Would he let her give him a hug? Or, would he simply want his life to continue as it had always been – without her.

A slamming car door caused her to jump, taking in a sharp inhalation of air. They were here. This was it. She was about to meet her little boy. Hugging herself protectively, she tried to stand, but found her legs were too weak. She held onto the table for support, sitting back down on the edge of the seat. Her breath came in short gasps, her heart thudding inside her chest, and her vision blurring as her emotions began to spill from her eyes.

The creaking sound of the back door opening announced that her family had arrived and they were walking into the back yard towards her. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to open them, fearful of what she might see. Had Antonio changed his mind? It was a possibility Beverly had prepared her for. A soft touch on her shoulder forced her to lift her chin. She was looking directly into the eyes of her counselor.

"Alexia," Beverly began, fighting back her own tears. "They're here. They're all here."

Alexia sniffled, drying her cheeks with her shaking hand as she slowly turned around. It was time to come face to face with the only part of the past five years that was worth remembering, the one person who had given her the will to live on those nights when she would have otherwise given up on life itself.

Her gaze was downcast as she swiveled around, seeing the feet of her mother, her brother, and a pair of little sneakers that could only have belonged to one child. Her breath hitched as she slowly lifted her eyes, taking in the skinny little boy who stood before her, partially hidden behind the pant leg of his Uncle Marco. Their dark eyes met, each seeing something familiar in the face of the other.

Alexia felt the stinging in the backs of her eyes and in her throat. He was beautiful, an angel. His skin looked soft and creamy, his cheeks rosy. She felt her nostrils flair and her lower lip quiver uncontrollably. The wind blew strands of hair across her face, and she used her delicate fingers to restrain them behind her left ear.

"Um…," she began, drawing a ragged breath and forcing a smile to cross her face. "Hi there."

Beverly kneeled down in front of Antonio, understanding why the normally outgoing child had suddenly become extremely shy. "Antonio, remember what I told you yesterday? Do you remember who I told you that you were going to meet today?"

The child never took his eyes off of Alexia, nodding his head in response to the questions he had been asked.

Marco felt his knees begin to shake, fear crawling up the back of his legs. He wondered what had happened to the excited child he had brought with him this morning. Why was he hiding behind Marco's leg?

"Antonio, do you want to show her your barn animals?" Maria asked, worried that the reunion wasn't going as well as they had anticipated.

Antonio shook his head, continuing to stare at the young woman seated at the picnic table.

"It's… It's okay, sweetie," Alexia whispered, understanding that her son must be feeling as nervous as she was. At least he hadn't run away, or cried… At least, not yet. "I'm kind of scared, too."

Antonio turned his head upwards, seeing his uncle looking back down at him with a comforting smile. "Go ahead, Ant," Marco said, nudging the youngster slightly.

The child reluctantly shuffled out from behind Marco's leg, holding the bouquet and paper in his tight little fists. Slowly, he took the three steps over to the place where Alexia sat. He looked down at the flowers, then back up at the young woman he had never seen before.

"Are you my Mama?" He questioned, his innocence portrayed in his meek voice.

Somehow, Alexia found her voice. She wet her lips before speaking in an airy voice. "Yes, baby… Yes, I'm…your Mama."

Antonio looked again at the picture he had drawn and at the bouquet he had picked for her. "These are for you," he said, holding out his hands, as the wind blew the paper closed around his fingers.

"For… Me?" Alexia wept. "Th-thank you, sweetheart. I… I love them," she said, accepting the proffered gifts, wishing she had something to give him in return. She pretended to deeply inhale the scent of the spider lilies. "These smell so good and they're so beautiful." She allowed her tears to flow freely as she considered the irony of the situation; the first man who ever gave her a bouquet of flowers was her own son.

Antonio watched as his mother began to cry. His grandmother and uncle had prepared him for this moment, assuming that there would be tears of joy. Maria had explained that sometimes girls cried when they were happy. Now, he wondered if his mother was crying because she was happy or because she was still sick. He took a step closer, reaching out his hand and wiping away the tears from Alexia's red face.

"Do you have an owie?" He questioned, hoping that she wasn't getting sick again.

Alexia released a nervous chuckle. "No, no I don't have an owie. I'm just so happy to… To finally meet you."

Antonio slowly released a smile, climbing up beside his mother and remaining on his knees so he was at her eye level. He reached out his arms, encircling her in a hug and gently tapping his hands along her back.

Alexia didn't want to frighten him, but she had to place the flowers on top of the paper on the picnic table so she could wrap her arms around her little boy, hugging him closely to her chest. She never wanted this moment to end, fearing that if she let go, she would find out that this was only a dream. "Oh, sweetheart… I've missed you… Missed you so much. I've thought of you every day, and… and…." No matter how hard she tried, she could no longer form words; in fact, she could barely catch her breath. "I'm sor-ry, baby… I've been, uh, sick, but now I'm better, and I'll never ever leave…"

"It's okay, Mama," Antonio stated, continuing to pat Alexia's back. "I'm gonna take real good care of you so you won't be sick no more."

Sniffles could be heard from the other adults present. They turned away from the scene before them, not wanting Alexia and Antonio to see their emotional displays. Before anyone could say anything, a gust of wind and a loud screech made them all turn toward the screaming child.

"My picture! My picture!" Antonio screamed, climbing down from the picnic table and running across the back yard. The picture he had drawn of himself with Alexia was skittering across the backyard just out of his reach. Each time he bent down to pick it up, another rush of wind would send it flying.

Tears turned to laughter, and sniffles became chuckles. Alexia found her energy returning and ran after her little boy.

"Help me, Mama. Help me catch it," the youngster called out.

"I'll get it," Alexia said, reaching her thin arms into the air as the white piece of paper whipped past her. She chased it, running behind Antonio and smiling when the paper got caught on the top of the privacy fence.

Antonio made it to the fence ahead of his mother, jumping up and down trying to reach the top to retrieve his crayon masterpiece.

"Looks like you might need a lift, Antonio," she said, reaching beneath his arms and raising him up in the air.

Antonio easily retrieved the paper, gripping it tightly in his hands. Alexia didn't want to let him go, and so, she held him as he wrapped his legs around her waist. Antonio looked at her with a bright smile. She took a few steps back towards the table, releasing the little boy so that he could walk beside her. As the two made their way back together, hand in hand, Antonio seemed to have found his talkative personality.

"I made this for you. See? It's me and it's you. And Grandma says that when you feel all better that I can take you home and keep you to be my Mama forever. I don't even have to give you back! Not ever!"

Alexia sat back down at the picnic table, encouraging Antonio to sit on her lap. "That's right, baby," she said, kissing him on his cheek. She looked up at her mother and brother, running her hand down Antonio's silky dark hair. "That's right. I'm gonna be your Mama forever, and I'm never going to leave you ever again… None of you."

Maria was the first to speak, drying her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Are you hungry? I brought all your favorites, Lexi."

Before Alexia could respond, her son had piped up again. "Yea, grandma made sopapillas and everything. You gotta be a good boy to get sopapillas," he rambled on, his excitement continuing to grow. "I've been a REAL good boy. I picked you flowers and I made you a picture. I picked up my toys and…"

"Antonio! Don't talk your poor Mama to death," Maria said, pretending to scold him. Inside, she was overjoyed by his excitement.

"But I wanna talk to her. She's my Mama and," he covered his mouth, snickering as if he had a big secret. He watched his grandmother remove the food from the basket with Marco's help. Antonio climbed across the table, too excited to take the time to get down and walk around it.

Marco rolled his eyes, giving his sister a quick wink. "He's so much like you, Lexi."

Alexia smiled, returning her gaze to Antonio, unwilling to take her eyes off of her energetic son. He was everything she had dreamed he would be and more. The main thing she noticed about him was that he was happy. He also seemed to be very accepting of her in spite of what she had done to him as a newborn.

"Grandma," Antonio spoke in a stage-whisper as he eased up to Maria's side. "My Mama's pretty, isn't she?"

Maria glanced at her daughter then back at her grandson. "Yes, she is very pretty."

Suddenly, in a burst of energy that only a four year old boy could possess, Antonio covered his eyes with his hands, parting his fingers to peek through. "I'm BATMAN," he yelled out, jumping off the seat of the table and laughing hysterically.

Alexia laughed out loud, relief flooding her soul. She jumped up and chased after him, catching him in a bear hug. Antonio laughed, squirming to get out of her grasp and causing them both to tumble to the ground in a giggling heap. Antonio rolled over, looking into the smiling face of his mother, glad that she was no longer crying. His young face became serious for a brief moment when he reached out and pulled a leaf from Alexia's hair.

"I hafta tell you something," he whispered to her, unaware that the other adults could hear him.

"Okay, Antonio. What do you need to tell me, sweetheart," Alexia responded, unsure of what he was thinking.

Antonio looked deeply into Alexia's dark brown eyes, his pearly white teeth beaming between his rosy lips. He couldn't stop the smile that kept his face glowing as he looked at the woman he knew was the answer to his child-like prayer request for a mother. "I love you, Mama."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Hank hung up the telephone, taking a seat on the bar stool in his kitchen. He ran his hand through his dark hair with a sigh.

"Oh, thank God," he mumbled to himself.

"Mike?" Rebecca asked, worried about the stress her husband had endured over the last twenty-four hours.

"Yes, he's doing well. Roy just got a call from Johnny. Mike's being released from the hospital as soon as he gets his last dose of morphine for the ride home," he said, smiling as his wife walked up behind him and began kneading his tense shoulders.

"That's great, honey. So he and Johnny have found a ride back to Los Angeles?"

"Yes, it seems that the man who found Mike is heading this way to deliver something to some store; I can't remember what. Anyway, he's bringing Mike and Johnny back," Hank said, his voice fading as his wife massaged his aching muscles.

"I'll make a couple of small casseroles so you can take over to his apartment when he gets home. I know you want to go see him, and I know he doesn't feel like cooking," Rebecca said, knowing how much her husband thought of his engineer. She recalled how kind Mike had been to her when Hank had been hospitalized. Preparing him a few meals was the least she could do to repay him.

Hank relaxed into the massage he was receiving. "Mmmm, that feels so good," he moaned. "I love you so much, Becca. And I know Mike will really appreciate a few hot meals."

Rebecca continued her ministrations. They had talked into the early morning hours, mainly about their history with Leonard Hunley. Hank had been honest with her about his concerns for Mike. Both agreed that it was likely that Mike had somehow managed to become a pawn in a game of romantic jealousy dating back twenty years. Rebecca couldn't help feeling guilty about what the engineer was going through. She had fallen victim to Hunley's possessive ego when she was a young woman, but she was older and wiser now.

"Are you still planning on talking to him?" She inquired.

"Mike, or that jackass?"

Rebecca snickered at Hank's uncharacteristic choice of words. "The jackass," she replied.

"Yep," he responded, reaching up to grasp her hands, leading her around to sit on his lap as he lightly pressed his lips to the backs of her hands. He enveloped her in a hug, resting his head on her chest. "He's still got a grudge against me, but he needs to take that up with ME – not take it out on Mike. Mike has nothing to do with this."

"What will you do if he refuses to listen to you? Will you go over his head to the Chief?" She asked, kissing him lightly on the top of his head, stroking his hair with her fingers.

"I'll do whatever it takes to clear Mike's name, even go to the top at HQ, if necessary." He laced his fingers together, resting his hands along her hip. "Mike's one of the finest men this department has ever employed. I won't stand by and watch his career be ruined by the likes of Hunley."

"What about Sam Bennett? Do you think you can trust him to do a thorough investigation?" She asked.

"I doubt it. Bennett's nothing more than Hunley's puppet. That was obvious by the way he jumped every time Hunley spoke, back at the station. No… I'm going to go toe to toe with Hunley myself," he looked up at his wife's beautiful face. Their lips touched briefly. He kissed her a second time, more deeply than the first. "And just like the last time," he whispered, "may the best man win."

E!

Johnny walked back towards Mike's hospital room, having just made phone calls to update Roy and James about Mike's impending discharge. He also had used the last of his pocket change to call Bloomers and speak to Iris. He needed to make sure that she would be at the shop when James made the delivery to Bloomers. He quickly explained that he had something to tell her as soon as he got back. As he pushed open the door to Mike's room, he overheard the injured man's comment about his pain level.

Dr. Buchanan removed his stethoscope, folding it and placing it in his lab coat pocket. "Well, Mr. Stoker, you are one very lucky man. How's your pain?"

"It hurts," Mike said with a snort.

"I'll write a prescription for some oral pain meds, and I'll have the discharge nurse give you some morphine before you leave. Just remember, it'll make you sleepy and dizzy, so NO driving," he instructed his patient.

Mike grunted at his physician's comment. "NO problem – NO truck." Mike's eyes widened. "Ugh… And NO clothes, either."

Johnny held up his hand to quiet his friend's panicked voice. "NO worries," he snickered, continuing the pattern of speech begun by Dr. Buchanan. "James is bringin' you somethin' to wear home. He should be here soon."

"Whew, I don't need anyone else seeing my backside," Mike chuckled, despite his discomfort.

The other two men laughed good-naturedly. Dr. Buchanan said his goodbye and exited the room, leaving Mike and Johnny alone to wait for the discharge nurse.

E!

Bri stood at the window watching the joyous reunion taking place in the backyard. The scene made her own sadness unbearable. In her hand, she held the business card Alexia had shown her. As she stared at the number, her grief was replaced by a wicked grin crossing her face. She knew she was alone in the house, so this was her chance to begin her revenge.

She tapped the card between her fingers, turning towards the telephone. "Don't worry, Michael. Everything will turn out just the way it should."

She cleared her throat, standing in the hallway where she could watch the backdoor. If Beverly or one of the Lopezes came in, she'd have to hang up quickly. She didn't want anyone hearing what she was about to do. She looked at the business card, then dialed the telephone number. Her heart was thudding inside her chest as she thought of what she would say.

"Los Angeles County Fire Department," the receptionist answered.

"Yes, may I speak with Mr. Hunley, please? This is his housekeeper," Bri lied, deciding that housekeeping was a benign cover for what she was really doing.

"Yes, ma'am. One minute please."

Bri waited, feeling waves of nervous heat flooding over her body. She nearly gasped when a gruff voice answered the phone.

"This is Assistant Chief Hunley."

"Lennie? It's me, Brianna," she stated, knowing he only knew her by her street name.

"Weelll, to what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?" He questioned, sarcastically.

"I, uh, I wanted to talk to you, about what happened." Bri gripped the phone in her white-knuckled fist. She had to do this… For herself and her baby.

"Yes, I understand your, ah, broker, is in a lot of trouble with the FBI," the Fire Marshall stated smugly.

Bri swallowed hard, trying to ignore the demeaning tone in Hunley's voice. "Ah, y-yes… Yes, he's in the slammer."

"He's cooperating with our investigation, by the way." He knew that Bri would understand the thinly veiled threat.

Bri considered her options. If Ricardo Gomez was working with the authorities investigating the suspicious fires, then she had no choice but to corroborate Gomez' story. No one would believe her, a lowly prostitute, if she opposed the version of events agreed upon by Ricardo, and especially the Fire Marshall.

The silence on the other end of the line told Hunley the whole story. Bri was going to seal the deal for him against Mike Stoker. "So, I guess that means you're beginning to see things my way?" Hunley asked.

"Y-yes… I'm, ah, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did," she stammered.

"You mean for what you DIDN'T do, don't you?"

She felt her eyes tearing up. "Yes. Is there, um, is there any way I can… I can make things right between us again?"

Assistant Chief Hunley smiled, propping a hand on his chair arm. "You needing rent money so you can get out on your own again? You looking for a little business transaction?"

Bri thought she would vomit at his insinuation, but she would do what she needed to do to get through this. "Um, yea… If that's what you want."

"I might be able to enjoy a little company, tonight. I'll pick you up somewhere, if you think you can get away." He knew where she had been staying and assumed that she was beginning to feel like a prisoner at The Wellhouse.

"I can get out for a little while. I'll think of something," she said, leaning against the wall for support. "There's a bus stop not far from here. Will that work?"

"Don't be late," he grunted, feeling a little lightheaded at the thought of what she would do for him later on.

"Okay, um… Lennie, who is this man the cops are saying set my apartment on fire?" She questioned, hoping he would take the bait.

"Oh, just one very unlucky fireman. You know how some of them like to play with fire. This one's going to get burned."

She clutched her blouse near her throat, tasting the bile that was rising from her stomach. "Um, do you, ah… Would it make things better between us if I… If I remembered more about that day?" She knew he would understand what she was implying.

Hunley leaned back in his chair, a huge smile crossing his face. This was working out much better than he had imagined. "Well, now... I think we just might be able to work something out… Especially if your memory about Mike starting the fire seems to be returning."

Bri licked her dry lips, trying to strengthen her resolve. Realizing she didn't have much to lose, she agreed. "Yes… Yes, I think it just might be becoming clearer."

She heard the back door opening, gasping into the phone. "Someone's coming. Hang on."

Alexia walked past her with a huge grin on her face. She nodded to her friend who seemed to be listening to a serious conversation on the other end of the telephone. She pointed at the little boy whose hand she was holding. "Antonio," she whispered, ushering the little boy down the hallway towards the bathroom. She smiled when Bri gave her a quick thumbs up.

Bri needed to create a cover for her impending night out. "Yes, sir. Yes, sir… I can be there at six," she said, loud enough for Alexia to hear her.

Leonard Hunley smirked. "Good girl…," he said into the phone. "I know where you're staying. Just tell them you've got a job to do and then you'll be back home a little later."

"Yes… Okay… That will be fine, just fine. There's a bus stop not too far from here, so I can walk there to catch my ride," she stated, cryptically. "Thank you, sir. I'll see you at six," she called out once more, her voice slightly raised.

She waited for Alexia and Antonio to come out of the bathroom. She really did want to meet her friend's little boy, but she also needed to explain where she would be later on.

Alexia walked up the hallway, her hand on Antonio's shoulders to guide him back outside. "He needed a bathroom break," Alexia said, her cheeks rosy and her voice light. "Antonio, this is my friend, Bri. Bri, this is my son, Antonio," she introduced.

Bri was trembling all over, but she somehow managed to smile at the brown-eyed youngster who was grinning at her. "Well, aren't you the cutest little fellow I've ever seen." She looked from the boy to Alexia. "Lexi, I've got a job interview later on this afternoon. It's a housekeeping job, so I've got to meet with the homeowner when he gets off from work. I might be late getting in. I didn't want you to worry about me."

"I hope you get the job. I know it isn't much money, but it's a start. And it's better than what we were doing. I'll be looking for a job soon, too." She squeezed her son's hand. "But, I want to get moved back home first."

"I understand," Bri smiled. "Antonio," she began, patting the child on his head, "you have fun with your Mama. It was nice meeting you. He's going to be a heartbreaker when he gets older, Lexi," she commented, still staring at the child.

"Thanks," Alexia responded, pulling on Antonio's hand. "Let's go back out and eat."

"Yea, I'm hungry," Antonio stated, pushing open the door and jumping down the two steps leading into the backyard, bounding over to the picnic table. "Catch me, Mama!"

Brittany watched as the happy young mother pretended to chase the rambunctious little boy, allowing him to get to the picnic table a step ahead of her. If things had turned out a little differently, she might have had a little boy to call her own. However, that didn't happen, and she was going to get her revenge against those who wronged her… soon.

E!

Mike took a seat in the wheelchair being pushed by the same pretty redheaded nurse who had given him the sponge bath when he first arrived. Johnny grinned at Mike, glad the man didn't remember the embarrassing bath he had received when he first arrived.

"If that outfit were a different color, I might confuse you for a new intern," she said, unlocking the breaks and pushing him out of the room.

Mike looked down at the scrub-like clothing he wore, compliments of James, who had left Mike to get dressed while he moved the delivery truck to the pick-up area. "Never seen these in black," the engineer commented.

"Yea, me neither," Johnny added. "But, it looks a lot better than what you were wearing. It covers all of you," he said, snickering as the trio headed down the hallway to the patient pick-up area. As the doors opened, the white delivery truck pulled to a stop at the end of the small covered walkway. "And there's our taxi," Johnny stated.

Mike tried to stand up, but staggered slightly. "Whoa… I think that morphine is kicking in," he said, feeling Johnny tucking himself in beneath Mike's extended arm.

Mike despised feeling helpless and vulnerable, but he had been helped to walk before, even though it had been a while. He had once been the victim of smoke inhalation when he was a lineman. He barely remembered his partner assisting him out of the burning structure. That was the first time he had ever needed the help of one of his coworkers. Now, he knew he might need their help in another way. He allowed himself to lean into Johnny's thinner frame, knowing that the slighter man was much stronger than he appeared.

"Thanks, man," Mike stated, when Johnny leaned him against the side of the vehicle.

"Let me help," James said, opening up the passenger's door. He helped Johnny get the wilting man inside the truck, helping him slide over into the middle seat.

"Here," Johnny said, climbing in beside Mike. "You can lean on my shoulder and sleep for the next couple o' hours."

"No, I'll be fine," Mike stated, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier.

James chuckled at the scene as he climbed in behind the steering wheel. "I don't think so, Mike. I think you need to sleep it off."

"He will," Johnny answered, silently wondering how much longer Mike could stay conscious.

Fifteen minutes later, as the delivery truck headed southwest toward Los Angeles, Mike slumped over onto Johnny's shoulder. "And, he's out," Johnny stated, jerking his right thumb over his shoulder in a move reminiscent of a baseball umpire. He was thankful that Mike was comfortable enough to rest, and grateful for the opportunity to talk to James privately about the Unity Family.

"James, I appreciate all you and your friends have done to help Mike. It's nice of you to give us a ride back to LA."

James looked straight ahead as he drove, wondering if either man might be willing to become enlightened through Hiram's teachings. He had been trained to share his faith with others, but lately there had been few opportunities. If he could bring just one more member into the group, then he could move up in the ranks, and be allowed a day of rest. He had managed to bring in two converts already, so he only needed one more in order to increase his blessings.

James glanced over at Johnny, realizing that the man had said something, but in his musings, James had missed the comment. "I beg your pardon?"

Johnny slid a little closer to the door, allowing Mike's unconscious form to slide a little farther down on Johnny's upper arm. "I said that I appreciate all you and your friends have done to help Mike, especially giving us a ride back home."

"Oh, you're quite welcome," James responded, seeing an opening to begin his witnessing to Johnny. "It's what my family and I do, help people. It's the most fulfilling thing I've ever been a part of." He turned, glancing at the dark-haired man. "I'm sure a man like yourself knows the wonderful feeling of saving someone's life, don't you?"

Johnny blushed at the compliment. "Yea… It's a pretty great feeling. I really like helping a woman give birth. You know, bringing new life into the world is fascinating, a true miracle," Johnny exclaimed.

"You know, John, giving birth or delivering a baby isn't the only way to 'bring new life into the world,' as you say."

Johnny's right eyebrow danced upwards, hiding in his shaggy hairline. "Oh? It's the only way I can think of," he snickered. "You fellas figured out a better way? Don't tell me that the Holistic Unity Gardens is a place where you find babies under cabbage leaves," he snickered, hoping to open the dialogue between them by questioning the name written on the side of the delivery truck.

"No, nothing like that, but we have found a way to bring new life into the lives of ordinary people," James responded, not giving any more information to the young paramedic. He needed to pique the fireman's curiosity before going any further.

Johnny chuckled, shaking his head as the wind whipped his dark hair around his face. "I don't know, man. I'm kinda fond of doing what it takes to create that new life. Not that I'm in a hurry to become a father or anything, but… You gotta admit, it's mighty fun practicing," he said with a quick waggle of his eyebrows.

James wanted to agree with what Johnny had said, but he had been without female companionship for a very long time. He hadn't forgotten how it felt, though. He loved the softness of a woman's skin pressed up against his own. He loved her gentle touch and tender kisses. Then his mind began to wander toward other parts of the female anatomy and he had to mentally chastise himself for losing control of his thoughts.

"Ahem, are you interested in finding out how to truly bring new life into your daily activities? I know the way, John. I can lead you there, if you'd like."

Johnny raised his hand up, his palm facing outwards. "I don't know, man. Sounds kinda strange to me. I'm a free spirit, not really the religious kind, ya know?"

"Of course," James continued. "You're a strong man, both in mind and body. You're very altruistic. True altruism is extremely rare, but you, my brother, have the gift. I've seen it in you. So has Father Hiram. You aren't the kind to fall for some false teachings or lying prophets. But, you saw how Father Hiram healed your friend," James stated, tilting his head towards Mike's sleeping form. "You heard him say that Mike would be just fine. So, you understand that what Father Hiram has is a spiritual gift. He is a true modern day prophet and healer, not some snake oil salesman. But, like I said, someone as intelligent, honest, hardworking and gifted as yourself already knows that." James continued driving, using his peripheral vision to gauge Johnny's facial expressions. The man had an expressive face, his emotions easy to read, making him the perfect person to bring into the fold.

Johnny ran a finger across his upper lip, squinting into the glare of the early afternoon sun as it reflected off of the windshields of the cars they were meeting along Hwy 158. "Yea…," he responded, his voice fading. Yea… I guess it is kinda rare in today's world."

"It's rare in any world. Think about it, John. Very few people in the history of the world have ever been allowed to understand the true fulfillment of self-actualization. It's something we must work for daily. I'm not perfect, but I'm growing closer and closer to perfection every day. See, I was one of those men that society tries to ignore. I didn't belong anywhere after I got back from 'Nam. No one understood me. No one really cared about me. My family didn't like what I had done as a medic in the Army. They…," he paused, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "They wanted me to do and be exactly what they wanted me to do and be. I wasn't free to be myself. I wasn't…," his voice cracked slightly. "I wasn't good enough to be a part of my own blood family. Nobody understands what it's like to hold an injured man while he dies. Nobody understands what it's like to play God Almighty out there in the field. It's scary!"

"Don't I know it, man. I've been there, too. Not in the service, but I've… I've held the hands of those who were dying just so they wouldn't die alone."

"Helpless feeling, isn't it? You get trained to save every patient, but you can't. Sometimes… When there's more victims than there are rescuers, you have to choose… You have to choose who gets treated and who doesn't… Who lives and who dies." James could sense Johnny's defenses beginning to wane. He was hitting his mark, and so he pressed on. "We give so much of ourselves as medics. We expend so much energy, blood, sweat, tears… We lose a lot of sleep… All to save strangers who don't care about us one little bit."

"Well, I wouldn't say that. We get a lot of 'Thank You's' actually," Johnny mentioned, thinking about Caroline and Corrie Marks.

James continued, undaunted by John's doubtfulness. "Oh, yes… Many do say 'thanks' to us. But how many folks get angry at you because you didn't do something the way they wanted it done? How many threaten law suits because we couldn't save a patient? How many people look down their noses at you because you're a public servant?"

Johnny didn't respond. He continued to sit still listening to the thought-provoking conversation.

"We're a lot alike, you and me. We both do so much for other people, and we don't expect anything in return," James said, allowing a moment of silence to punctuate his statement. "I grew up poor, John. I didn't have much. I got picked on so badly at school because I didn't have the right kind of clothes to wear. The house I lived in was run down and… Well, my old man liked the bottle more than he liked me and my brothers and sisters. I spent a lot of time taking care of them because I was the oldest. Our mother died when we were young. Anyway, I guess caregiving just comes naturally to me. It's what I do. When I got back to the States and my brothers and sisters called me a 'baby-killer' just 'cause I was in the Army... I… For a while, I just sat around wishing I had died back in that jungle. But here… Here with the Unity Family, I found my true self. I realized that I was valuable, important. I mattered. And it didn't matter how much fun people made of me, or how badly they treated me because I served my country… I'm important here. They really care about me. They don't let me give up. They give me purpose." James looked over at the young man whose eyes seemed focused on the hood of the truck. "John, what I'm saying is that I found my true destiny here with the Unity Family. You can, too. You can be around like-minded souls who'll love you and give you purpose. There's no teasing or yelling at you. Everyone is respected, has dignity and value. John… It's wonderful."

"Sounds like Utopia," he commented, thinking back on his time with Lily and Iris, beginning to understand why Lily had been drawn to the Unity Family in the first place. She had always felt like an outsider, like she didn't belong.

"It isn't perfect, but it's close," James said with a chuckle. "I'm not trying to be pushy. Just wanted you to know it was available, that's all."

Johnny leaned his head against the back of the truck. "I'll think about it," he said, knowing he really wouldn't. His only concern was Lily and how to get her out. He had no interest in getting himself in. He did think back on how his crew mates at the station seemed to enjoy picking on him, especially Chet. He had to admit that it would be nice to be seen as an equal with the Irishman, instead of the butt of all the Phantom's antics.

A couple of hours later, Mike pushed himself off of Johnny's shoulder. He felt like he had a hangover. He needed a long hot shower and a toothbrush. "Where are we?" He asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"We're home, Mikey," Johnny said, just as James pulled up to his first stop of the day.

"We're back 'n LA a'ready?" Mike asked, groggily.

"That's right." James answered, expertly parking his truck in the back parking lot of their newest customer. "Did you have a nice nap?"

"Yea… Yea, I guess I did." Mike sat up a little straighter, looking out the passenger's side window. "Hey, John?"

"Hmm?" Johnny replied.

"Is that your Rover?"

Johnny shook his head with a grin, amused by Mike's question. "Yep, Roy dropped it off. We're at Bloomers, Mike. Remember the flower shop where Joanne worked? Where Caroline's workin' now?"

"Oh, yea, yea, yea," Mike answered, using the heels of his hands to rub away the sleep from his eyes.

"C'mon," Johnny said, stepping out of the delivery truck, reaching back up to give his loopy friend a hand.

James disembarked and made his way to the back of the vehicle. He began loading up a cart with the plants Iris had ordered.

"Hello," a female voice called out.

"Hello, ma'am. I'll have your order ready in just a minute," James responded.

"Hi, Iris," Johnny said, guiding Mike over to the Rover.

"So, is this your lost friend, Thor - er, John?" Iris said, quickly correcting her error.

Mike knitted his eyebrows together, wondering what name the older woman had been calling Johnny. Deciding he was still in a daze from the analgesic and the resulting deep sleep, he dismissed what he had heard.

"Yea… Iris, this is Mike Stoker, our engineer. Mike, this is Iris Campbell. She owns Bloomers. She's Caroline Marks' boss lady," he said with his usual grin, encouraging Mike to lean against the Rover for support. As soon as he had Mike situated, he stepped over to the place where Iris was standing near the back door of the shop. "Roy said he left my keys with you."

Iris looked up at Johnny worriedly. "Yes, they're inside," she told him, turning to walk inside the back room of the building. "Here," she said, removing the key ring from a nail on the wall. She looked over Johnny's shoulder, making sure that James was still busy unloading the plants. She didn't want the delivery man to overhear their conversation. "You said you had some information on Lily. What did you find out?"

"You're right; she's with them. I saw her. I didn't get to speak to her, but I saw her."

"Oh, my goodness," Iris cried. "I can't believe it. After all these years, we've found her."

"I know, I was stunned when I saw her," he hugged Iris, soothing her soft whimpers. "Sshhh, we'll get her out. I don't know how, but we'll get her out."

"Thank you," Iris sniffled. "I'm grateful for all your help with this."

"You're welcome. There's nothing I wouldn't do for my two favorite ladies," Johnny said, his voice barely a whisper. "I appreciate the fact that you haven't told anyone else about our connection. I'm just not… I'm not ready to explain all that, ya know?"

"I understand, sweetheart. You go take care of your friend. We'll talk later about what to do to get her away from them. And, I know I speak for her when I say this… We both love you very much, Thorn."

Hiding behind the partially opened door to the workroom, Caroline stood waiting for the private conversation to end. She knew that her employer was upset about something, but she wasn't sure exactly what it was all about. As she waited for an opportunity to go into the store room, feeling guilty about eavesdropping, she heard Iris say something that caused Caroline's stomach to somersault, and her hand to cover her mouth to prevent an audible gasp from escaping her lips.

E!

It was mid-afternoon when Hank collected the casserole dishes and placed them into a picnic basket. "You're going to fatten up my engineer with all this food," he joked, good-naturedly.

Rebecca added a pound cake and closed the lid. "A couple of your men could use some fat on their frames," she responded with a smile.

"I can't disagree with you there, but as Johnny says, they may be skinny but they're not soft."

Hank kissed his wife then picked up the picnic basket and headed for his car. Rebecca stood on the front step watching him place the basket in the passenger's seat of their black sedan.

"Good luck at headquarters," she called out.

"Thanks… I'll probably need it," he stated, closing the door and cranking up the car. He backed out of his driveway, mentally rehearsing what he would say when he confronted Leonard Hunley, but first he needed to check on Mike.

E!

In Mike's apartment, Johnny was growing frustrated with Mike's attempts at modesty.

"C'mon, Stoker. A hot shower will help loosen up those sore muscles," Johnny argued.

"I know that, but you are NOT going to stay in the bathroom with me while I shower," Mike said in a raised voice. "I've been showering alone for over twenty-five years. I DON'T need any help, now."

"Look, you don't get hurt as much as the rest of us, so you aren't as used to the effects of pain killers. They can make you woozy and I don't want you to slip and fall. Besides, if you do fall, you might fall in front of the door, and then I won't be able to get inside to help ya," Johnny huffed, placing a hand on his narrow hip.

"I'll be careful. I've already had one stranger looking at my bare ass, I don't need you to see it, too."

"Damn it, Mike. I've seen a helluva lot of bare asses and penises in my line of work. What you've got ain't no different than the rest of us," Johnny said, his voice nearly yelling.

Mike looked at his friend whose face was growing red with frustration. He knew Johnny had no idea what his comment had sounded like, and Mike couldn't stop the snicker that bubbled up from his chest. "You, ah… You been moonlighting, Johnny?"

"What?" Johnny questioned, unsure of what Mike meant.

"I said, have you been moonlighting? Have you been picking up a little extra cash as a male prostitute?" Mike guffawed.

"What? NO! Hell no! I'm not some male pro…uh, gigolo, or whatever the hell ya call it, and I DAMN sure ain't gay!"

"I don't know," Mike said, egging it on. "You sure seem anxious to see what I've got down there."

"Oh, shut up, man. You're worse than Chet, you know that?" Johnny argued back, his own seriousness fading. "Okay, a'right. Have it your way. But if you fall…"

"I'll call you and, uh, I'll even let you touch my ass," Mike chuckled, enjoying the sparing with his friend as he headed stiffly down the hallway to the bathroom. It felt good to be back to normal, at least for now. He knew he would have to face the reality of the situation with the allegations against him very soon.

He stepped into the shower, allowing the hot water to melt away his pain and soreness. As he lathered up and rinsed off, his brain continued to think about the false accusations against him. He shampooed and rinsed his hair, watching as the suds went down the drain in his shower stall. Was that what was about to happen to his fire service career? Was it about to go down the drain, as well?"

As he got out and began toweling himself dry, he heard Johnny talking to someone in the living room of his apartment. By the time he had pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt, he recognized the other voice. Anger and betrayal began forming inside his gut, making his blood boil. The visitor was the man he had trusted to keep his secret shame, and now he was in Mike's apartment, and once again the engineer was the topic of conversation.

Mike slammed the towel down on the floor of his bathroom. The normally neat and tidy man didn't care about leaving his bathroom in a disheveled state. He had to stop the conversation going on in his living room before it got out of hand. He walked down the hallway, his face stoic and his steps confident. When he stomped into the living room, he crossed his arms over his chest as his blue eyes glared at Captain Stanley.

"Mike, I'm glad to see you doing so well," Hank stated, standing up to shake his engineer's hand. "Johnny was just telling me the details about the accident. I'm glad you're okay, Pal. Becca sent…"

Mike held one hand up with his palm facing his captain. His anger had returned tenfold as he thought about his confidences being violated. "Johnny, would you excuse us, please?" He asked, interrupting Hank's explanation about the food in the basket.

Johnny's dark eyes shifted back and forth between the two men. "Um, yea… Okay, sure," he said, stepping towards the door. "I'll just, ah… I'll head on home. Call me if you need anything, Mike. Uh, I'll see ya later, Cap."

Hank waited for Johnny to leave the apartment before he turned his attention back to his fuming engineer. "Is something wrong, Mike? You seem a little agitated."

"Cut the shit, Hank," Mike said, pointing his finger at the shocked fire captain. He narrowed his crystal blue eyes at the taller man, seething internally. "I trusted you! I trusted you with something VERY private, and you just couldn't wait to tell the rest of the guys, could you?"

"Michael," Hank began, preferring to use his engineer's formal name to get his attention. "Have a seat and let's talk about this, man to man."

"No," Mike said, gritting his teeth and shaking his head. "Man to man implies that there are two men in this conversation." He pointed his finger back at himself. "But a REAL man doesn't lie, doesn't go back on his word. That means I'M the only man here, right now." Mike's hands were trembling and his heart was thudding around inside his chest. He stepped angrily towards his front door, opening it and turning back to his captain. "Get out! Get out of my apartment, and out of my life!"

"Mike," Hank said, trying to reason with the infuriated engineer. "Listen, it isn't what you're thinking. They want to help you; we all want to help you. We know you didn't do it…"

"I said LEAVE!"

Hank tried to lick his lips, his mouth feeling dry. "Okay, I'm leaving, now. I'll leave you alone and let you calm down. I know you don't feel well. I'll call you tomorrow, and maybe by then we can just forget all of this ever happened."

"No, we can't. I'll never be able to forget that it happened," Mike responded, still holding the door open.

"Alright," Hank stated, stepping across the threshold and turning back around in one final attempt to settle his man down. "Why don't you get some rest? Maybe you should go lie down for a while."

"And maybe you should go to hell," Mike grunted, slamming the door in Hank's face.


	12. Chapter 12

Warning: Extreme language

Chapter 12

Mike slammed the door, turning on his heels and heading for his kitchen. The soreness in his aching body was making itself known through the tension in his neck, shoulders, and back. He opened the refrigerator door, staring at the items inside. He rarely drank alcohol, but this was one of those times that he really wanted to quench his thirst with an adult beverage. He pulled an old can of beer from the remnants of a six pack on the bottom shelf. He popped the top, snapping it off and tossing the metal ring into the trash can beside the stove.

Propping one hand on his hip, he tipped his head back ready to guzzle the amber liquid when reality slapped him in the face. "Ugh," he groaned, stepping to the sink and pouring the contents down the drain. "Damn pain killers," he grunted, remembering what happened to Chet when he mixed narcotics with alcohol. He didn't want to end up unconscious… Or worse.

He meandered back into the living room, flipping on his television set and lying down on his couch. He blew out his breath in an effort to relax his tight muscles, a combination of the effects of the accident and his argument with his superior. He shifted constantly for several minutes, trying to find a comfortable position. It seemed that no matter how he turned, he put pressure on a sore spot. The pain reminded him of Alexia, when he had found her after her assault. He wondered how she was doing, hoping she was improving both physically and mentally. He knew she had a long recovery ahead of her, but he also knew the strength and faith of the Lopez family. If anyone could fully escape prostitution, it was Alexia Lopez. He blew out his breath, wondering if he should call Marco and check on her. Then, remembering that Captain Stanley had told his crew mates about the allegations, Mike decided against making the phone call. While Marco hadn't been at the station the morning the Fire Marshall and his arson investigator had stopped by, Mike assumed that once the rest of the crew had been told of the allegations, they likely shared the information with their senior lineman. The last thing Mike wanted to do was to rehash the accusations with Marco, especially since they seemed to stem from Mike's efforts at helping Alexia get out of the business.

He sat up, grimacing when he pushed himself off the couch and into a standing position. If he couldn't rest, and he couldn't talk to anyone, at least he could clean up around his apartment. He headed for the bathroom, bending down slowly to pick up the towel he had thrown on the floor in a fit of anger. Standing up, he looked into the mirror, noting the slight bruising along his jawline. He thought of how close he had come to dying alone in his truck, and remorse gripped his heart. Had it not been for the kindness of strangers, he might never have been rescued. And, had Captain Stanley not violated Mike's trust, his friends might not have gone searching for him, either. He glowered at his reflection in the mirror, thinking back on how he had treated his captain when he came for a visit.

"Damn, Stoker… You've really messed things up, haven't you?"

He returned to his living room, staring at his telephone. He knew he owed Captain Stanley an apology. He exhaled a cleansing breath then picked up the receiver and dialed the number.

"Hello? Stanley residence," Rebecca answered in a soft pleasant voice.

"Um, hi… This is Mike. May I speak to Cap, please?"

Rebecca wrinkled her forehead. "He isn't here, Mike. He left around three o'clock heading over to your apartment. Hasn't he arrived, yet?"

"Yes, I'm… I'm sorry. I really appreciate the food you sent over. I'm afraid I wasn't really up to talking very much, though. He, ah… He left about an hour ago. I thought he'd be back at home by now."

"He's probably still at headquarters. He was going over there when he left your place. I'd love to be a fly on the wall of Hunley's office right about now," she mused.

Mike felt his throat constrict. "Wa-wait… He's at headquarters talking to Hunley? Is it about me?"

Rebecca suddenly realized that Hank had not explained his intentions to Mike. "Oh, Mike. I'm sorry. I thought you knew."

"Knew what?"

Rebecca wrapped her arm around her midsection, propping her slim hips onto the nearest bar stool in her kitchen. "Are you sitting down? This may take a while to explain."

E!

Alexia sat at the picnic table, Antonio's head in her lap. Slowly, she ran her fingers through his dark hair as he slept. "I think he's tired," she said with a smile.

"He should be," Maria responded. "He was up at dawn ready to come see you."

Alexia wiped her fingers beneath her eyes. Her little boy, the baby she had abandoned, was happy and healthy. It was what she had been hoping for since he was born. Now, she also knew that he was excited to see her. It was the proverbial icing on the cake. "Thank you, Mama. Thank you for taking such good care of him." She looked over at her oldest brother. "Thank you, Marco. You've been such a good role model for him. And… I'm so grateful to you for not giving up on me."

Marco felt the backs of his eyes begin to sting, and he sniffled as he struggled to speak around the lump in his throat, his face turning red. "You're welcome. I love you, my sister, but I think Mike deserves the gratitude more than I do."

Immediately, Alexia's countenance fell. "He did save my life, didn't he?"

"Yes," Maria answered with a blissful look on her face as she watched her daughter caressing Antonio's head as he slept.

"What's happening to him is wrong," the young mother said softly.

Maria and Marco stared at Alexia in disbelief.

"What do you mean?" Marco asked.

Alexia darted her eyes back and forth between her mother and brother. "The arson investigation."

Marco felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "What arson investigation?"

"You don't know?"

"No, Lexi, we don't," Maria responded, feeling her heart pounding inside her chest.

Alexia felt her mouth go dry, and reached for her cup of lemonade. "He's being investigated for starting some fires, including the one in my apartment that night. He didn't do it. It was Ricardo, not Michael."

"How do you know this?" Maria asked with concern in her voice.

"The investigator, Sam Bennett… He came by to talk to me yesterday." She lowered her eyes as she spoke. "He told me that Michael works with you. Until then… I didn't know, Marco." She looked back up at her brother. "I didn't know that all those nights when he was helping me… He was doing it because he's your friend."

"He is my friend, Lexi, but Mike is a really good guy. He's the kind of man who helps people who need helping. It wasn't like he owed me a favor, or anything. He did what he did because he wanted to, not because I asked him to do it. Now, what's this about an arson investigation?"

"Mr. Bennett came over to interview me. He needed my statement, and… And he asked me if I would testify at a hearing," she said, nearly choking on her comment. The thought of testifying about her own background and causing further shame for her family was almost more than she could handle. She raised the cup for a sip, needing to soothe her dry mouth and throat.

Suddenly, Antonio jumped awake. He sat up, his dark eyes wide in wonder as he wiped a couple of drops of water from his face, unaware that it was the condensate dripping from his mother's cup of cold lemonade that had caused him to wake up with a jolt.

"It's raining," the youngster announced, confused by the laughter of the adults around him.

"No, sweetheart. It was just the water that dripped off my cup," Alexia explained. "Did you have a nice nap?"

"Uh-huh," he said, yawning.

As much as Alexia wanted to keep the visit going, she knew that her son needed to go back home to his own bed. She knew he wasn't comfortable napping on the hard bench seat of the picnic table. She looked across the table at her mother and brother. "I wish you could stay forever, but I know he needs to get home and rest."

Marco and Maria understood her unspoken message. She was allowing the visit to come to an end. They stood up and began repacking the picnic supplies.

"We'll come back and visit you every day, if you'd like," Maria announced, walking around to the edge of the table to hug Alexia, "until the day you can come back home. I love you, Lexi."

"I love you, too, Mama," Alexia responded, returning the hug awkwardly as Antonio snuggled closer to her. He was waking up enough to fully understand that his first visit with his mother was almost over.

"I don't wanna go," he cried, wrapping his arms around Alexia's waist.

"Listen, Antonio," Maria began, sitting on the other side of her grandson. "It won't be long before your Mama will feel better and then she'll be coming to live with us. And we'll come back and see her again tomorrow, okay?"

"Noooo," he whined.

Alexia felt her heart breaking, but she knew she would see him again very soon, unlike the night she had left him on her mother's front porch. "Listen, Ant…," she hesitated, waiting for his dark round eyes to look up at her. When he complied, she continued. "I have to make sure that my heart is better, and then I'll come and live with you, forever."

Slowly, Antonio seemed to understand his mother's situation. He crawled up onto his knees, planting a kiss on his mother's cheek. "Kisses make your boo-boos feel all better," he stated, confidently.

Alexia fought the tears that threatened to spill onto her cheeks. "With kisses like that, I'll be completely well real soon," she said, her voice nearly a whisper.

The youngster smiled, then reached out his hands to turn Alexia's face to the other side, allowing him to plant a kiss on her other cheek. "Does your heartache feel better, yet?" He asked innocently.

"Very much. Thank you, Antonio," she said, batting her eyelashes rapidly to hold back her tears.

"Drink some 7-Up and eat salty crackers. That'll make you feel better in your heart and your tummy," he announced proudly as he climbed down from the picnic table to follow his grandmother and uncle back towards the car.

"Saltine crackers, amigo," Marco corrected.

"No, Meeko. They're salty crackers," the child announced with an exaggerated expression on his face.

"Well, he's got you there… Meeko," Alexia snickered, winking at her brother. "I love you, Antonio… I love you all," she announced, hugging each of them before they got into the car. She kneeled down in front of her little boy. "And I'm so glad that I'm your Mama."

Antonio responded by wrapping his arms around his mother's neck.

"We'll come back tomorrow," Maria told Alexia while Marco got Antonio settled into the backseat. "I'll see if Carlos can bring us over. That way you can meet your nieces."

"I'd really like that," Alexia stated with anxious anticipation. "I've got therapy in the morning. I'll have free time after lunch, though. I'll let Beverly know."

When Beverly's name was mentioned, Marco felt his face flush slightly. He had been saddened when the counselor had returned inside, allowing them more privacy during their visit. He couldn't wait for their date on Friday night. He also thought about what Alexia had said about Mike being investigated. As soon as he got home, he planned to call his engineer. He wanted to find out what was really going on… And, more than anything, he wanted to help his friend.

E!

Hank walked up the stairs to the second floor of the administrative building at headquarters. He stepped up to Hunley's office and raised his hand to knock, but the door opened suddenly, leaving him feeling ridiculous with his hand raised in mid-air.

Hunley glared at the man who stood stunned just outside his office door. "Hank… What brings you here on your day off?"

Hank rocked back and forth slightly, towering over the shorter man in an intimidating manner. "I think you know. May I come in?"

"Nope, not now. I've got a meeting to go to. Talk to the secretary, and make an appointment if you want to discuss the hearing," the Fire Marshall said, pulling on his jacket.

"Why is there even going to be a hearing? My man didn't do anything wrong, and you know it. This is about you, me and Becca." Hank stood in the doorway, effectively blocking Hunley's exit.

"Oh, you're a regular riot. That was a long time ago. Besides, you did me a big favor by taking her off my hands. She was no good for me," he spat out, nearly bumping his shoulder against Hank's chest as he pushed passed the furious fire captain.

"I believe it's the other way around. Maybe your memory is fading a bit. The way you treated her was wrong, just like the way you're framing Mike is wrong." Hank pointed a finger at the Fire Marshall. "And you better make damn sure you can back up those allegations with evidence. Because if you can't, you'll find your ass on the other side of the table at the administrative hearing. I can promise you that, Lennie!"

Hank stormed back down the hallway, taking the stairs two at a time. Behind him, Hunley grinned smugly as he locked his office door, whistling all the way to his car. He was about to hammer the final nail in Mike Stoker's professional coffin, a fact that would be certain to haunt Hank Stanley, forever.

Neither man noticed the office door next to Hunley's that was slightly ajar. Inside, Sam Bennett was replaying everything he had just overheard. He was beginning to see a picture forming - one of vengeance and lies. He sat back down at his desk, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. He was an honest man who was caught up in a huge ethical dilemma. Now, he had to figure out how to get himself out of the tangled web… And how to salvage the reputation of an innocent engineer.

E!

Back at the Stanley residence, Rebecca finished explaining her history with Leonard Hunley to Mike. She could hear the engineer breathing heavily on the other end of the line, and knew that he was angry.

"Mrs. Stanley, are you saying that Cap went over to confront the Fire Marshall on my behalf?"

Rebecca smiled, a feeling of pride wrapping itself around her. "That's right, Mike. He knows you didn't do anything wrong."

"Well, I guess I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time," Mike groused. He knew that if he hadn't been out late at night, helping Alexia Lopez, then he wouldn't have been accused of the atrocious wrongdoings he now found himself facing.

"Mike, you have always been such a modest man. You really don't know how much you've done for so many people," Rebecca praised. "In fact, it sounds more like you were in the RIGHT place at the RIGHT time, instead of the other way around."

In his apartment, Mike scrubbed his face with his open palm. He exhaled hard as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Rebecca's comments only served to make him feel even guiltier. "Um, thanks. I… I appreciate that. I just hope that what I did will at least make a difference for Alexia and the rest of the Lopez family."

"I'm sure it has. After all, she's alive and she's rebuilding her relationship with her family. From what I understand, emotional support is going to be the key to her recovery."

Mike used his free hand to rub his tired eyes. "Yea… I can see where that'd be important. She needs to know that she's important to the people closest to her."

Rebecca thought about how much Mike sounded like he needed emotional support from those closest to him, too. Perhaps he and Alexia had more in common than either of them realized. She tried to work a compliment into the conversation, letting him know how special he really was to those who knew him. "I'm sure she's grateful to you. After all, it was your efforts that reunited her with her family."

"I dunno… Maybe," he said, weakly.

Rebecca could tell that Mike was not feeling well, his voice quieter than usual. Acting on her female intuition, she hesitantly spoke up. "Um… Speaking of Alexia, may I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Have you spoken to her since she got out of the hospital?"

"No, ma'am. Actually, I haven't seen or spoken to her since the night she was attacked. H-how's she doing? Have you heard anything?"

A bright smile decorated Rebecca's pretty face as she remembered the latest report she had heard from her husband. "From what Hank has told me, she is recovering quite well. She's at The Wellhouse. Do you know about it?"

Mike knitted his eyebrows together, trying to figure out why she was not recovering at Maria Lopez' home. "Yes, I'm familiar with it. I did the initial fire inspection when it first opened up, before I took the engineer's exam. Why is she there?"

"Well, if you know what The Wellhouse's mission is, then I'm sure you can figure that out for yourself," Rebecca stated, feeling her own face blush pink. She certainly didn't want to discuss Alexia's recovery from prostitution with one of her husband's men.

"I understand that, but why isn't she at her own home, with her mother and son? I would think that's the best place for her to get better," Mike commented, still confused.

"I think she's getting some counseling or something…, Uh, Mike, I hear Hank opening the front door. Did you still want to talk to him?"

Mike gulped, silently rehearsing his apology. "Yes… Please."

Hank walked into the kitchen, needing to hug his wife. Instead, he was greeted by her smiling face and outstretched hand holding the telephone receiver.

"It's Mike," she whispered. "How'd it go?" She asked, mouthing her question to prevent Mike from overhearing.

Hank held his hand out, palm down, and waggled it. "So, so, I guess," he responded, accepting the proffered telephone. "Mike?"

"Um, hey, Cap. I… I, uh…." The engineer ran his hand through his mussed up hair. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. If you hadn't told the fellas, then they never would've gone looking for me. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. I'm sorry."

Hank felt an unseen weight being lifted from his shoulders. "It's alright, Mike. No harm, no foul. There's a lot that you don't know about this situation."

"Actually, Mrs. Stanley filled me in," he snorted, thinking about his captain and the Fire Marshall sparring over Rebecca when they were younger.

"Oh?" Hank questioned, raising his eyebrows in Rebecca's direction. "Then I guess you understand when I say that this has nothing to do with you?"

"I understand your beef with the Fire Marshall, but I don't see how I'm going to get out of this, Cap," Mike groaned.

"You'll be exonerated at the hearing, Mike. It'll all be over then. There's absolutely no evidence, whatsoever, and I intend to roast Hunley's ass over his own fire!" Hank nearly shouted, feeling his ire returning just by saying the name of his nemesis.

Mike rubbed his forehead, the throbbing from earlier was returning. He appreciated what his captain was saying, but he wasn't sure how it would help salvage his damaged professional reputation. "With all due respect, Cap. Everyone will remember the accusations. No one will remember the exoneration."

E!

Bri sat alone at the bus stop, bouncing one leg nervously. She hated what she was about to do, but she knew it was necessary. She had to get justice for herself and her baby… And, Michael Stoker certainly deserved to be freed from the choking accusations he faced for helping her friend. Several buses passed by as she formulated her plan.

When a car pulled to a stop in front of her, she looked up, forcing a smile onto her face. She stood up, walking quickly to the passenger's side door. She opened it and sat down, avoiding facing the man with whom she would be spending the evening.

"Nice to see you again, too," Hunley spat out sarcastically.

Bri steadied her nerves, swallowing past the lump in her throat. "So, what are you interested in?"

Hunley pulled back into traffic, a maniacal smirk covering his round ruddy face. "You know what I like."

Bri shivered, even in the warmth of the car. She did know what he liked, and she hated it worse than anything else she had ever done as a prostitute. Yet, do it she must. She pressed her lips into a thin line, flaring her nostrils as she found her voice. "Yes, sir. I do," she stated in a small child-like voice.

"So, are you gonna be a good girl for me tonight?"

Bri knew from experience that it didn't matter what she said or did over the course of the encounter. Hunley could be a brutal man, especially to people he considered to be 'disposable.' She hated the way he tossed that term around. No one was disposable, but Hunley didn't consider her, or any other prostitute, to be human. As far as he was concerned, they were no better than stray animals.

"Yes, sir," she stated again, placing herself into the character he preferred. "I'll be a good girl."

E!

When Alexia returned to her room following her shower later that evening, she saw her roommate already in bed. She was lying with her face turned to the wall, not her normal sleeping position on her back.

"Bri? Did you get the job?"

"Um… Yea," Bri croaked, trying to hide the fact that she had been crying.

Alexia felt her heart leap into her throat. Something was wrong. "Bri?" She walked over to the edge of her roommate's bed and sat down. She reached out, gently placing her hand on Bri's shoulder. She could feel the other woman trembling beneath the covers. "Bri, talk to me. What happened?"

"Nothing… I just feel tired, okay?" Bri answered, her slight sniffle giving her away.

"Nu-uh, no way," Alexia persisted, leaning over Bri to get a look at her face. "If you won't tell me, then will you at least talk to Beverly? She's on duty tonight."

"I… Can't," Bri gasped. "I'll… I'll be in tr-trouble."

"For what? All you did was go for a job interview, right?" Alexia questioned, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. "Right?"

The trembling beneath the covers grew stronger until they became heaving sobs. "Lexi… Please don't hate me," she cried, slowly rolling over onto her back.

"Ohmygod, Bri… What happened? Who did this to you?" She gasped, seeing the bruising along her roommate's throat. She feared she knew the answer.

"Please don't tell, Lex… Please?" Bri begged, tears pouring from her red and swollen eyes as she sat up, turning to face her friend.

"Tell what?"

"I… I went back to him, again," she cried. "I… I had to. I had to know the truth."

Alexia felt the bile burning the back of her throat. She knew who Bri was referring to. What she didn't know was why her friend had gone back to the man who enjoyed inflicting pain on her. "Who? Lennie?"

Bri nodded. "I… I've never told you the truth about him, but… Lexi, he…," she hesitated, unsure if her friend would even believe her. "He admitted to me that he's framing Michael Stoker for the fire in my apartment… And yours, too."

Alexia's fingers covered her mouth, her vision blurring from her own tears. "But, but how? Why?"

"Because the sick bastard CAN, Lexi. He's the fucking Fire Marshall!" She said in an airy stage whisper.

Alexia's world tilted and she feared she might faint. She swallowed back the bile, her eyes staring at the floor in disbelief. "But, but he's… OHMYGOD!" She exclaimed.

"Shhhh," Bri hushed Alexia's rising voice. "Please, you won't tell on me, will you?"

Alexia answered Bri's question with one of her own. "Did you, um, get paid?"

Bri turned away from Alexia, her shame and guilt nearly overwhelming her. "A little… Not all of it, though."

"WHAT? He didn't even pay you for what you did for him?" Alexia asked, shocked by what she was hearing.

"He gave me twenty-five… He said I'll get the rest when I testify at Michael Stoker's hearing in two weeks," she stated sadly.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Alexia asked in a hushed tone, so as not to awaken the rest of the residents, her efforts to restrain her street language completely forgotten. "He's innocent, Bri. You KNOW that," she complained.

"Yes, I do know that. But, Lex… There're things you don't know, things I can't tell you, but please trust me, alright?" Bri begged.

"Why? Why should I fucking trust you?" Alexia spat out, standing up and turning away from her roommate in disgust. "I thought you were trying to get out of this shit!" She huffed, feeling her own emotions bubbling to the surface. "I thought you… Wait a minute," she stated, turning back around and staring at Bri. "Wait just a damn minute!" She pointed her finger at the woman she had considered a friend. "You didn't go for some housekeeping interview. You met up with a steady john, and… And the job you said you got was to be a whore for some sex freak AND to be a fucking paid liar!" Her finger trembled and her chest began to heave as her respiration rate increased. Her heart was pounding inside her chest. "You're going back out there, aren't you? You're going to go back on the streets, selling yourself again. Why?" Alexia asked, wiping away her tears. "Why are you doing it when you know you'll get kicked out of here if they find out? Why are you going to help the Fire Marshall ruin Michael's career over something he didn't even do? He saved my life, Bri. Don't you get that?"

"Yes," Bri said, tossing the covers to the side and standing up, watching as Alexia noticed the red marks on the side of Bri's lower legs.

"Shit…," Alexia muttered, shaking her head in disgust. "You let him beat the hell out of you for twenty-five dollars, and you're still willing to lie against Michael for that son of a bitch?"

"No," Bri responded, wrapping her arms around herself, suddenly feeling cold and exposed. "I mean, yes… Yes, I did let him do those things to me, and yes, I'm going to testify at that hearing because I have to… But… Please, Lex… You've got to trust me. I know what I'm doing. I promise," she cried. "Just… Please don't tell on me. I… I can't live out there on the streets again. I'd… I'd rather die," she sobbed.

Alexia looked at the pitiful face of her roommate, and felt torn between telling Beverly what Bri had done and defending Michael. She knew in her heart that she couldn't sentence Bri to a life back out on the streets, even if the young woman had made a terrible choice when she went back to Lennie. Yet, she also knew that Michael deserved to be proven innocent. She turned her back on her roommate, slipping beneath the covers on her bed. She had to make a choice that she never wanted to make. Should she refute Bri's lies at the hearing and tell Marco's superiors about her connection to Michael Stoker in order to prove his innocence, or should she keep their family's reputation intact as much as possible and allow an innocent man to lose his career and, perhaps, his freedom?

E!

A/N: For more details on what happened between Hunley and Bri, please go to WWOMB or AO3. The details are too graphic for a teen rating on this site. Thank you all for your support.


	13. Chapter 13

Warning: Extreme language

Chapter 13

Marco pulled into his usual parking spot behind the station, shifting his sedan into park and staring at the concrete wall. Feeling somewhat responsible for Mike's absence, the senior lineman dreaded seeing the rest of his shiftmates. He didn't know if they would blame him for Mike's situation resulting in them having a replacement engineer. He glanced down at his watch, noting that Chet's van was already parked in the back lot between Roy's Porsche and Hank's black sedan. Normally, Chet was the last crew member to arrive, but today that unenviable honor seemed to belong to Johnny. Suddenly, he saw a flash of white and knew that their junior paramedic had arrived. He smiled at the screeching sound the Rover's tires made as the younger man stopped just short of the concrete wall. Marco climbed out of his vehicle, waiting for Johnny to join him before heading toward the empty apparatus bay.

"Mornin', Marco. How's Alexia doin'?" Johnny asked, turning sideways to face Marco as he spoke.

Marco held open the door, allowing Johnny to enter the locker room ahead of him. Inside, Roy looked up when he heard the light conversation.

"She seems to be doing well; thanks for asking. I took Antonio and Mama over for a visit yesterday." The lineman looked aside wistfully, remembering the reunion between mother and child. "I wish you could've seen the look on her face when she saw him."

"Sounds wonderful," Roy added. "Was Antonio excited?" He asked, buttoning up his light blue uniform shirt. Even though he had missed the first part of the conversation, he was able to easily pick up where Marco left off.

"Oh, Roy, it was incredible. He was so happy to finally meet her. We had a terrible time trying to get him settled down enough to sleep last night," Marco answered, beginning to remove his street clothes.

"I used to be like that," Johnny commented softly to himself, his demeanor a bit reserved. "I'd get excited over somethin' and then I couldn't get my mind to stop racin'," the paramedic explained as he hung up his plaid shirt and reached for his uniform.

"USED to be?" Roy snickered. He looked over at Marco while he answered his own question. "He still is!"

Marco smiled, glad for the momentary diversion, but he knew he couldn't let the fun linger. He needed to know what the other guys knew about Mike's situation. "Um, fellas… What's going on with Mike? I heard he was being investigated or something."

The smile on Roy's face faded quickly. He looked at his partner, both men wondering what to say. Marco hadn't mentioned the accident which meant he most likely didn't know how close they had come to losing Mike permanently. Johnny forced a slight cough, signaling to Roy that he wanted his older and wiser partner to answer the question posed by their senior lineman. While Johnny often took the lead in dangerous rescues, Roy seemed to be better at talking to people. With only a brief glance exchanged between them, Roy cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Ahem," he began, leaning his shoulder against his locker. "Well… From what we've been able to get out of Cap, he's being investigated for some arsons."

"Damn," the lineman groaned. "How? Why?"

Johnny wanted to laugh when he thought about their captain and the Fire Marshall vying for the attentions of Rebecca when they were younger, but he also knew that Marco would quickly figure out the connection between Mike being out late at night trying to help Alexia and then later being accused of starting some late night fires, including the fire in Alexia's apartment. "I dunno, man." Johnny propped one foot on the bench in front of his locker, resting his forearms across his knee. "But we found out that Assistant Chief Hunley and Cap really don't like each other much," he said with a smirk. "Seems Cap stole Hunley's girl back in the day."

"What?" Marco questioned, perplexed by what that had to do with the accusations against Mike.

"He's right," Roy chimed in. "Mrs. Stanley was dating Hunley. He wasn't treating her well, according to Cap, and –"

"And now she's Mrs. Cap instead of Mrs. Assistant Chief," Johnny quipped.

"Seriously?"

"Yep, Lopez. I swear, it's all true," Johnny stated, his voice lacking its usual flair.

Roy saw the look on Marco's face and realized that the lineman knew the paramedics were avoiding answering his question. "Listen, Marco, it's true… Mike's being investigated for arson by Hunley. And…," he exhaled, not wanting to say what had to be said. "And one of those fires is the one in your sister's apartment the night Mike found her."

Marco sat down heavily on the bench in front of his locker. "Sonofabitch," he mumbled. "I was hoping Lexi had made a mistake."

"Lexi knows?" Roy asked, tucking his shirt into his pants as he stepped over to the place where the lineman sat.

Marco glanced up briefly, nodding his head in affirmation. "She told us yesterday. Some investigator named Bennett interviewed her. He asked her if she would be willing to testify at Mike's hearing."

"What? No way," Johnny nearly shouted. "She can't do it, Marco. He didn't do it, so she can't do it."

Chet pushed through the locker room door just as Johnny made his confusing statement. "Well, John. Seems you're communication skills are improving," he joked, a sly grin covering his face. "I hope I'm better at asking questions than you are at making statements," he commented, hoping Johnny would take the bait.

"Oh, shove it, Kelly," Johnny shot back, ignoring Chet's masked remark. "Marco, don't let her. Mike's innocent, you know that, right?"

"Of course I know that," Marco barked back. "And so does Lexi. Bennett wants her to testify to Mike's innocence, not his guilt!"

"What are you fellas talkin' about?" Chet asked, confused by the conversation he had walked in on. Before he could receive an answer, their captain stuck his head in the doorway.

"Roll call in five," Hank announced. "Walker's gonna be our engineer, which means he's pulling a double from 15's C-shift, so cut him some slack, alright?"

A chorus of agreeing statements came from the small group. As soon as Hank withdrew from the room, the chatter began again.

"Wait, you mean Sam Bennett, the arson investigator, wants Lexi to testify on BEHALF of Mike? What the hell?" Chet asked, waxing his thick mustache with his fingers.

"Beats me," Roy responded.

"Since C-shift is still out on a run, I think I'll talk to Cap after roll call. Sounds like he needs to know about this," Marco spoke up, rising to stuff his shirt tail into his navy uniform pants.

Johnny quickly raised his eyebrows while looking at his partner. Roy understood the silent gesture to be a question, and he knew Johnny was asking him why he hadn't told Marco about Mike's accident. Roy pressed his lips into a thin line, shaking his head slightly. He didn't want to get into that part of the story with Marco – at least, not before roll call.

As the men shuffled out to their line-up, Hank surveyed his motley crew. Engineer Walker had just arrived, yawning from a busy shift. Chet stood beside him, a grin adorning his face that Hank couldn't decide if it meant the man had planted a water bomb, or was himself bombed. Marco stared at the floor, his demeanor subdued and his face dark. Roy was standing at attention, his blue eyes staring beyond Hank. Johnny stood next to his partner; the younger paramedic's shoulders were slumped as though he carried the weight of the world on his slender frame.

"Good morning, men. I have a few announcements and then I'll assign chores." Hank walked up and down the line-up reading the memos and studying his subordinates. Something was definitely off with the crew. He would have to keep his eyes and ears open during this shift to make sure everyone was giving their complete attention to the job. He finished up by handing out chores, obviously leaving his replacement engineer without an assignment, hoping he could get a little rest between runs.

"Alright, let's have a safe shift. Dismissed."

"Cap?"

Hank looked up from his clipboard. "Yes, Marco?"

"May I speak to you for a minute?" The lineman asked, thankful to the others who quickly dispersed to begin their respective chores.

"Of course," the captain responded, turning on his heels and heading for his office. He assumed his lineman wanted to speak to him in private." He entered his office, standing by the door and using his hand to gesture to the chair beside his desk. "Have a seat."

"Thank you, Cap," Marco stated, sitting down.

"How's your sister doing?" Hank asked, assuming that Marco wanted to discuss his recent absences.

"She's doing really well, actually… But, I'm hearing that Mike isn't," Marco commented, opening up the door for the conversation.

Hank grimaced, leaning back in his chair. "No, he isn't. I'm assuming you mean the investigation?"

"Yes, is there something else?"

Hank tapped a nearby pencil on his desk. "Yeah… He went camping after he was suspended and had an accident. He wasn't found for nearly two days. He's okay," the captain said, holding his hand up at the sound of Marco's gasp. "But he's still on suspension until after the hearing."

Marco propped his elbows on the arms of the chair, staring down at the floor. "And if he hadn't been out looking for Lexi, then he never would've been accused of this, would he?"

"Stop it right there, Marco."

"Sir?" The lineman asked, looking up at the man he respected more than any other in the department.

"I said stop it right there. The only person at fault is Leonard Hunley. I'm afraid Lennie and I go way back. This is HIS fault, not yours. And not Alexia's, either," the captain instructed, taping his index finger on the desk to emphasize his point.

"I can't help it, Cap." Marco felt his eyes burning as he faced his captain. "I can't help feeling like it's my fault. But… How do I fix it?"

"Have you talked to him?"

Marco shook his head. "I don't know what to say."

"What do you think he would tell you if he was sitting right here?" Hank asked, putting pressure on his lineman.

Marco huffed. "Humph… He'd say the same thing you did. That it isn't my fault, or Lexi's."

"Sounds like our engineer is a smart man," Hank offered, a slight smile tipping his lips. "Maybe you should talk to him, Marco. I think you'll find him to be very understanding, and not blaming anyone except the Arson Unit."

"Do you think Lexi should testify for Mike?"

Hank wasn't prepared for the question. He leaned forward with his elbow on his desk, staring at the papers resting in front of him. "I, uh… I don't know. I'm afraid it might be necessary to prove he didn't do it, but do you think she'd be able to? She might be asked some difficult questions. I won't sugar coat this. Lennie is a first class asshole," he commented, uncharacteristically. "He could make things pretty tough on her, if he's the one asking the questions."

Marco inhaled, as if to speak, then sat back continuing to stare at the floor. "I don't get it, Cap. I just don't get it. Why would the Fire Marshall suspend Mike until a personnel hearing when the arson investigator is defending him?"

Hank knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. "What did you say?"

"Sam Bennett is the arson investigator, right?"

"That's right," Hank agreed.

"Well… He visited Lexi the other day. He asked her if she'd be willing to testify at Mike's hearing. For him, not against him."

Hank stared at Marco as if the man had taken leave of his senses. "Are you sure?"

"That's what Lexi said. I mean, I haven't talked to him myself, but Lexi sounded sure of herself when she told me."

The fire captain ran his hand through his hair, pressing his hand against the back of his neck. "Well, I'll be damned." He looked over at Marco, a fresh sparkle in his hazel eyes. "The arson unit may not be as cohesive as I thought."

E!

"Hey, Tiger," Dixie said in her sultry voice, seeing Johnny lumbering up to the nurse's station, the handy talkie dangling from his wrist. "If you're looking for Roy, he's still in with your patient."

"Thanks, Dix," the paramedic said in a subdued tone that did not go unnoticed by the perceptive nurse.

"From what I saw earlier, the kid should be fine." She waited for his trademark grin to appear. When it didn't, she continued. "Guess it isn't the bicycle accident that's got you so glum, huh?"

Johnny leaned against the cabinet, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He turned around, blowing a cooling breath across the steaming mug, when he noticed the blue eyes of the nurse boring holes through him. "Did ya say somethin', Dix?"

The head nurse smiled, leaning her elbow on the edge of the counter, resting her chin against her curled fingers. "Alright, which one of my nurses dumped you this time?"

Johnny sipped his hot coffee, feeling the burn as the liquid passed from the back of his throat to his empty stomach. "Oh, no, it isn't that. I was just thinkin' about an ol' friend of mine, that's all," he stated.

"Must be some friend," she suggested, pushing away from the counter. "Need to restock?"

"Nah, we didn't use too much on the little guy. We can wait until we come back through," he commented, raising the cup to his lips again.

"Ready to roll, Junior?" Roy asked, stepping up to the counter and glancing at his watch. "You should be ready to eat by now."

Johnny took one final long sip from his mug, setting it down behind him as he waved goodbye to his favorite nurse. "Yea… See ya, Dix."

"Bye, Dixie," Roy tossed over his shoulder as the two made their way down the hallway and out the glass doors.

Roy took his seat behind the steering wheel while waiting for his partner to close his door. Roy cranked up the squad and shifted it into gear. As Roy drove them out of the parking lot, Johnny removed the microphone from the brackets.

"Squad 51 available," Johnny spoke, then quickly hung it back up. He stared out the window as Roy pulled out onto the street. His mind was taking a trip down memory lane while Roy droned on and on in a flat voice about the price of cold cuts for the sandwiches he planned to make for lunch.

A couple of times on the short drive back to the station, Roy looked over at his partner and wondered what was wrong with him. The junior paramedic had done nothing more than grunt while Roy spoke. Finally, the older man couldn't take it any longer. When he pulled the squad to a stop at a traffic light, he turned to his partner.

"Alright, what's going on?"

"Hmm?" Johnny asked, glancing at his long-time friend.

"I asked what was going on with you? You haven't paid attention to a word I've said."

"Oh, I'm fine," Johnny commented, feeling the cooling breeze blow through his untamed mane as the squad sped up again.

"Yea," Roy muttered sarcastically. After making a few more comments and receiving only an obligatory one syllable response, he decided to test his partner's attention. "Joanne's pregnant, Johnny."

"That's nice," Johnny replied, unaware of what Roy had actually said.

Roy rolled his eyes. "And Chet's the father."

"Hmm, 'kay," the younger man mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Roy checked his side view mirror, noting that there was no traffic behind him. He tapped the breaks, sending Johnny's body lurching forward.

"What the hell?" Johnny groused, his arms extending to brace for the impact that didn't happen.

"That's what I'd like to know!" Roy said, his voice rising in volume and tone. "I just told you that Chet got Joanne pregnant and the only thing you can say is 'okay?'"

"WHAT? HOW? I mean, you and Jo are… And Chet and Caroline are…," Johnny began, his voice rising at least an octave. He turned sideways in the seat, his face a combination of shock and disbelief. "You're just kiddin', right?"

Roy remained silent, shifting into reverse and backing into the station. "I was just checking to see if you were paying attention. Obviously, you weren't. Jo isn't pregnant, and if she was, it sure as hell wouldn't be Chet's."

Johnny felt his heart slamming around inside his chest. He splayed a hand across his heart taking a couple of calming breaths. "Damn, don't do that to me."

"Then why don't you tell me what's eating at you, Johnny?" Roy asked, shifting into park and turning to look at his partner with concern.

"Nothin'," the younger man said as he stepped out of the truck, slamming the door behind him. Johnny didn't know how to tell Roy what was really bothering him. He wasn't ready to talk about his past, especially not Lily, with anybody – not even his best friend.

Roy shook his head, slowly stepping out of the squad. He knew Johnny would eventually open up, but until then, Roy knew that working with the downtrodden young man would not be a pleasant experience. His partner had always been a bit of a mystery, but today he was truly an enigma.

E!

As the sun began to sink into the Pacific Ocean, Lexi sat alone reading a book, hoping to improve her reading skills to prepare for her GED. She saw her roommate walking swiftly by her, heading for the front door. "Going out again?" She asked, the tone in her voice letting Bri know that she disapproved.

Bri hesitated in front of the door. She wanted to tell her friend the truth, but she couldn't risk it. This was something she had to do alone, at least for now. "Yes… Please, Lex… Please don't wait up for me." She looked down the hallway, seeing their counselor exiting her office. "I've got a lot of cleaning to do tonight, so I might be a little late getting in."

"Okay, don't overdo it," Alexia called out, cryptically. Silently, she hoped that Beverly might ask her about Bri's activities, giving her a chance to reveal the danger her roommate was in.

"I-I won't," Bri announced, rushing out the door. She felt the backs of her eyes stinging as she made her way down the steps and along the sidewalk to the designated meeting place. She dreaded the next few hours with Lennie; she just hoped he would be kinder to her this evening than on their previous encounter.

"Alexia, may I talk to you for a moment?"

Alexia turned around, seeing Beverly's smiling face. "Sure… Is something wrong?" She asked, closing the book and setting it beside her on the sofa.

Beverly took a seat near the younger woman. "No… No, nothing is wrong. I just… Well, I want to get your, uh, your permission for something, I guess."

"Permission? Permission for what?"

Beverly felt the blush creeping up her face. "Well, your brother… Marco. See, he's… He's asked me to join him for dinner tomorrow night. It's just a friendly dinner, nothing more, but… Well, I don't make it a habit to go out with the relatives of my clients, you know?"

Alexia allowed a knowing grin to spread across her pretty face. Now, she understood why her oldest brother had seemed so nervous around Beverly. "Um, okay… But, what if he wants it to be more than just a friendly dinner?"

Beverly blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to find a believable answer for Alexia's question. "Um… Well, I… It really doesn't matter. It's just a friendly dinner, like I said. I just wanted to know if you'd be uncomfortable with me spending a little time with him. I promise, nothing will be said about you or anything involving you. But, if you'd rather I not go out with him, then you just say so. I won't go and there'll be no hard feelings, okay?"

"I think Marco will treat you to a very nice evening. I hope you have a good time," Alexia stated, trying to hide her disappointment that the question Beverly asked wasn't about Bri.

"Really? You don't mind?"

"Of course not," Alexia said with a smile. "My brother's a really nice man. And I think he's quite handsome, too."

Beverly blushed again, nodding in a noncommittal sort of way. She really thought that Marco Lopez was one of the nicest and most handsome men she had ever met. Now, she was free to plan her evening out with Marco – the first real date of her life.

E!

"C'mon, fellas, he's got to be cheatin'!"

"No way, Gage," Chet snickered, slapping down his hand. "You lost, fair and square… Square!"

"Fine, FINE!" Johnny grunted through gritted teeth, shoving his chair back hard enough that it tipped over. "Damn it," he mumbled, setting it upright and heading for the sink. This certainly wasn't the first time he'd lost a card game where the stakes included washing dishes.

"Hey, don't be such a spaz, man!" Chet threw over his shoulder, turning to look at Roy who was sitting on the couch reading the sports section of the newspaper. "What's wrong with your partner?" He asked, getting up from the table and walking toward the older paramedic.

Roy shrugged his shoulders, never turning his attention to the aggravating Irishman, even when Chet sat down on the other end of the sofa. "Maybe he's just tired. Leave him alone, will ya? I've got to ride with him for the next 12 hours."

"Sure, DeSoto… Um, can I ask you for a favor?"

Roy looked up, eyeing Chet suspiciously. "You may not get it, but you can ask," Roy joked.

"Whatever," the Irishman grinned. "Um, tomorrow is a very important day and… Well, see…"

Roy couldn't stand the torture any longer. He had been hearing Chet's hints all day. "Let me guess. You want Joanne and me to babysit tomorrow night?"

Chet's face tinted pink as a smile burst out from beneath his mustache. "Yea… Um, maybe…"

"All night?" Roy asked, peeking from behind the paper he was pretending to read.

"Do ya mind? I mean, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't really important, but it's really important, so…"

"Sure, I know Jo doesn't mind. And Jennifer loves having Corrie around, so it's not a problem," Roy answered, smiling at the nervous man. "And I hope she says 'yes' when you ask the question," Roy whispered with a grin.

Chet's face burned, both from the blush as well as the smile that stretched across his face. "So do I, DeSoto. So do I," he snickered. "And thanks a lot. I really appreciate it, man." He jumped up from his seat, heading toward the door. "I think I'll call Caroline now and let her know we've got babysitters for tomorrow night."

E!

Inside Hank's office, he and Marco were trying to get a call through to Mike's apartment.

"Line's been busy for over twenty minutes," Marco complained, turning his wrist to check his watch. "Well, fifteen minutes," he corrected.

"I know, Pal. But he has the right to talk to whomever he wants. It is his phone, you know," Hank commented.

"It's just as well," Marco griped, wringing his hands, nervously. "I don't know what I'm going to say to him, anyway."

"How about the truth? Let him know what your sister said about Sam's visit. I think it'll make him feel a whole lot better about the hearing," Hank said, dialing the telephone again. When he heard a ringing on the other end of the line, he pressed the button to place the call on speaker.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mike. Hank and Marco here," the captain said, glad to have finally connected with his engineer. "How're feeling?"

"Still sore, but… I'll live, I guess," Mike said, wondering why he was receiving a call from the two men. "Is something wrong?"

"No, we just –"

"I wanted to apologize to you, Mike," Marco interrupted. "I'm sorry how things turned out with the investigation and all, and…"

"Cut it out, Lopez," Mike said, effectively silencing his friend. "I know what you're doing and there's no need. This isn't your fault and it isn't Alexia's, either. Understand?"

"I hear you… I don't believe you, but I hear you," Marco stifled a strained laugh. "I knew you'd say that," he grumbled.

"Then why'd you call?" Mike questioned, wanting to make a heavy topic a little lighter.

Before Marco had a chance to explain why they had made the call, the tones dropped.

"Station 51, explosion with injuries, 27454 Avalon…"

"Hey, Mike, we've got to go," Hank said, standing up.

"I hear."

"Take care and we'll be in touch," Marco responded, ending the call and following his captain into the apparatus bay.

E!

Leonard Hunley pulled to a stop at the bus stop, unlocking the passenger's side door of his sedan to allow Bri to get inside. "Get in," he ordered, looking around at the sparse traffic.

"Hi," she responded, loosening the top button of her blouse. She had worn it completely buttoned to prevent anyone at The Wellhouse from seeing her bruises. Now, she wanted Hunley to see what he had done to her.

"Anybody see those?"

She shook her head, glad he had acknowledged her injuries.

"Good. Now, if you'll just do as I say, then you won't have to worry about getting any more," he huffed, pulling back out into traffic and heading for his home. Tonight, he had a different plan for her.

As soon as Hunley pulled into his garage and closed the heavy metal door, he reached over to his passenger and tipped her chin in his direction. "Now then…"

She wanted to jerk away from his touch, but forced herself to remain stoic, instead. She had endured his torture the previous night, and she would endure it again, if she must. It wouldn't last beyond Mike's hearing, of that she was certain.

"Let me see those luscious lips," he requested, gripping her chin firmly. "Atta girl," he smirked, his own lips parting into an ominously wicked grin. "Just remember, do as I say and things will go much easier for you tonight… And in the future."

"Yes sir," she said, wanting to break away from the cigarette stench on his fingers.

"Okay, let's go inside. You give me the best you've got for the next little while, and I'll share my plan with you." He released his grasp on her chin, holding his index finger in her face. "Like I said… I'll give you the rest of the payment when you complete the deed for me at the hearing. Understood?"

"I understand."

E!

It was almost midnight by the time Bri crept up the steps onto the front porch at The Wellhouse. She felt like a teenager late for curfew, but the repercussions of this act of defiance would be far worse than the grounding most teenagers received. She slowly opened the door, cringing when the hinges creaked. She tiptoed inside, turning around to quietly close the door behind her, unaware that she was being watched.

"Brittany?"

The sound of her name being whispered in the stillness of the dark room startled her. "Oh," she gasped, leaning against the front door.

"Where the hell have you been?" Alexia questioned, her patience wearing thin.

"Out, Lex… Don't ask," she stated, slipping off her shoes and walking quietly across the room, heading down the hallway.

"Don't you dare ignore me," Alexia warned in a harsh whisper. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

Bri made her way into the bedroom she shared with Alexia, clicking on the lamp and changing into her night clothes. "Yes… Yes, I DO know what I'm doing."

"Bullshit!"

"Let it go, Lexi," Bri argued, pulling her blouse over her head, forgetting the stripes she had received the previous night.

"Goddamn it," Alexia grunted. "I can't believe this shit. Have you even looked at your back? Is he worth it? Is the money going to be enough to buy you a new life?"

Bri pulled her tee shirt over her head then spun around to face her friend, her tears spilling over her lower lids. "No… No, there's no amount of money that's worth what I've been through these last two nights. I'm not doing it for the money, Lex. I'm doing it for… Argh," she huffed in frustration, crawling into her bed. "You wouldn't understand."

"You're right. I don't understand, Bri. For the life of me, I can't understand why you're risking a chance at a normal life for that sick motherfucker!"

"I'm NOT!" Bri shot back, her own anger beginning to boil to the surface. "Don't you get it, Lex? YOU have a chance for a normal life. I don't. I'll NEVER have a normal life, EVER!"

"Yes, you can, Bri," her friend argued, feeling a twinge of pain in her soul for the agony she was hearing in Bri's voice. "We're both young, and we're here," she said, waving her arm around the room. "We don't have to pay rent or utilities or buy food until we're able to live on our own. We just have to do the right thing, and we'll get out of this messy business."

"NO!" Bri cried, her voice hitching. Her chest was heaving as she struggled to breathe. "No… I don't have the support you've got, Lex. It's not the same for me. You've got Antonio, your Mama, and all your brothers there to catch you if you fall. They're there to support you and give you a place to stay until you're able to make it on your own. Who do I have? Nobody!" She laid down, pulling the covers up to her chin, sniffling as she poured her heart out to her friend. "Nobody's waiting on me to get better. Nobody's there for me if I fall. I've got to make my own way. And that's exactly what I'm doing… I've got a plan for getting out of all this mess once and for all. And damn them all to hell if anybody gets in my way!"

Alexia stood stunned, letting Bri's words sink into her heart. What had Bri meant by her comments? What was her plan and who was she damning to hell if they got in her way? Alexia swallowed back the acid she was tasting in the back of her throat. She had been fearing for Michael's future. Now, with the statement Bri had just made, she was beginning to fear for her friend's future, as well.

Slowly and quietly, Alexia crawled into bed and turned off the lamp on her nightstand. She needed to get some sleep so she would be well-rested for her visit with her family in the morning. She also had to make a decision about what to do about Brittany. Should she risk going to Beverly with what she knew, or should she let Bri continue on the self-destructive downward spiral she was currently swirling around in? Neither option appealed to her. Neither plan would end well for Brittany. Alexia wished she had someone she could confide in, someone to give her advice on how to handle this situation. She thought of the many nights she had sat with Michael Stoker, talking to him as easily as she would have talked to a close friend. He had never been judgmental, nor had his words caused her any shame. He had made her feel important, worthy of his time. As she lay staring at the ceiling, she made one firm decision. She needed to talk to Michael. He needed to know that even if her testimony meant nothing because of her status as a former prostitute, she was still going to be at the hearing. She needed to defend his character and his name, even if it meant heaping additional shame onto her own family name. It was time she did what was right by the man who saved her. And more than anything else, she needed to make sure that he knew how grateful she was for his sacrifice.

E!

A full moon glowed in the night sky above Los Angeles County. Beneath the glowing orb, six men lay in their beds at Station 51. Three of them slept soundly, emitting snoring sounds, while the other three stared at the ceiling.

Chet lay awake, too excited about what the following day might hold. If everything went as planned, he would be making an announcement at the next shift. He thought of Caroline's beautiful face, wondering how she would accept his request on their date tomorrow night. He grinned to himself as he considered how her answer might change his relationship with Corrie. He couldn't wait to see the little girl's cherubic face when they told her the news. Then his own nervousness began to creep into bed with him, curling up inside his chest. What would he do if Caroline said no?

Beside him, Marco feigned sleep, but his mind was reeling with excitement about his upcoming date with Beverly. He knew she was a former prostitute, but even though she had a dark past, somehow he managed to see beyond the darkness to the light that seemed to shine from her heart. She was a good person, a woman dedicated to saving others. That was something they had in common. He wondered if she was thinking of him, as excited about their date as he was. He felt a warmth deep inside his chest every time she was near, a warmth that persisted even when she was only with him in thought. He inhaled deeply, feeling a hint of anxiety at the upcoming date. He wanted everything to go perfectly, and he hoped it would lead to many more evenings together.

Across the dorm, another fireman lay awake, his arm draped across his face, as was his nightly habit. He had tried to sleep for a long time, but found it elusive. Lily filled his thoughts. How had she become involved with the religious group? She had seemed so confident and sure of herself as a teenager. What could have happened to make her doubt herself enough to become indoctrinated by Hiram and his followers? He thought of all the events that had occurred during the months they had spent together. They had witnessed so much, endured so much. It had ultimately led him to the career he now enjoyed, so why had she taken such a different path? And why had she cut her mother out of her life? He removed his arm, staring at the ceiling as he formulated his plan of action. Somehow, he had to talk to her. He had to convince her to leave the group and return to her mother, and perhaps even return to him, too. He knew that the only chance he may have to even speak to her was to go to the compound. Would he be allowed to see her, or would he have to infiltrate the group? If the only way to get her out was to go in himself, was he strong enough to resist the group's pressure to completely join?

Across town, in his darkened apartment, Mike Stoker also lay awake in his bed. His mind was reeling with worry, anger, and dread. He had received notice of the date of his hearing, yet, his only defense was his own denial. The only person who could attest to his innocence was a street walker. How would the personnel board take the news that he had been spending time with a known prostitute? It certainly wasn't the kind of behavior they approved of for members of the Los Angeles County Fire Department. Would that admission be enough to ruin his career, even if he were to be found innocent of the arsons? While he had never been a particularly religious man, he had learned a lot about faith from the Lopez family in recent months. Now, as he lay alone in his bed, he felt his eyes beginning to sting as he whispered a prayer into the night.

"Oh God… If you're real… Make something good come out of this situation. Please let Alexia fully recover, and please… Please don't take away my career because I helped her. I'm just asking for the truth to be made known, nothing more. If the truth is told, maybe things will all work out for the best."

Feeling a sense of peace for the first time in a very long time, Mike closed his eyes. Tears flowed out the corners, streaking down the edge of his hairline and tickling his ears. Somehow, they felt as if they were cleansing his heart and soul. And with his burden significantly lessened, he drifted into quiet slumber.

E!

Thank you all for your continued support of this story, and the entire series. I appreciate you very much.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: This chapter is a little longer than usual, but I hope you don't mind. Thanks so much for reading and sharing your thoughts with me.

Chapter 14

Leonard Hunley released a throaty groan, relaxing slightly as he struggled to catch his breath. He wiped the sweat from his brow, then rolled over to the edge of the bed, his back to Bri.

Bri pulled the sheets up around her exposed breasts, listening to his heavy breathing. 'Another satisfied customer,' she thought to herself in disgust. She dared a glance over at his glistening back, noting how each inhalation caused the waffle-patterned scar near his waist to expand and contract. Without even realizing what she was doing, she reached out and gently stroked the fading ugly scar, causing him to jerk away from her with a low hiss.

"I'm sorry; I forgot," she whispered, even though they were alone.

"Never, ever touch me there," he grunted, sitting up and swinging his feet onto the floor. The scar was from an injury during a fire that had ended his career actually battling blazes. He had been a captain for over seven years and was sent into a burning warehouse by his Battalion Chief to retrieve a fallen firefighter. He had managed to remove the debris from the downed man's legs, but before Hunley could get out of the building, the grating from the floor above had fallen down on him. The twisted metal had caused him to fall in a way that left his turnout coat shifted above his waist. The heated metal had managed to burn through his uniform, searing his flesh in the pattern of the grating. Then, as if to add insult to injury, a long piece of metal had been sheared off at an angle, and was shoved down inside his bunkers leaving a large gash from his hipbone down across his buttocks. Only luck had prevented it from impaling him. He had never worked as a firefighter again. During his rehab, he had received word that he was being promoted to Assistant Chief and placed in charge of the Fire Prevention Division. That had been five years ago, and yet, he could still remember the smell of his burning flesh, and the memory of the white-hot pain he had experienced would remain with him forever.

When he stood up, heading for his bathroom, Bri saw the end of the scar running around across his backside. As he walked passed his dresser, she noticed the time on the clock. "Oh, SHIT!"

"What?"

"It's after midnight! I've got to get back, Lennie. If I get caught, they'll kick me out!" She gasped, reaching for her clothing on the floor.

"Nu-uh… You are NOT getting in my car smelling like, uh… Well, I don't want anyone at the department to think I'm screwing around in a company car. Get a shower first, then I'll take you back across town," he ordered, stepping inside his own bathroom adjoining his bedroom. "You can use the bathroom in the hallway," he said, closing the door behind him.

Bri quickly gathered up her clothing and hurried down the hallway to the guest bathroom. She avoided looking at herself in the mirror, knowing that she wouldn't like the image looking back at her. She opened the cabinet doors, removing a towel and wash cloth, then turned on the shower. As she waited for the water to warm up, she thought back over everything that had happened in the last few hours. She had been given specific orders, but could she follow through with what she had agreed to do?

Inside his bathroom, Hunley quickly washed himself off and pulled on his boxers. He needed to make a phone call while she was in the shower. He couldn't afford for her to overhear what he was about to do. This was all a part of his grand scheme to bring down Firefighter Specialist Michael Stoker, and thereby destroy the young man's captain - Hank Stanley.

Hunley pulled on his pants and buttoned up his shirt, grinning when he heard the water running in the guest bathroom. "Atta girl," he scoffed, reaching inside his wallet and withdrawing a slip of paper with a telephone number written on it. He sat down on the edge of his bed, shifting the black rotary dial telephone to give him easier access. As the water continued to run in the hallway bathroom, he dialed the telephone number, prepared to assume the elderly persona for the tale he was about to tell.

E!

Margaret O'Rourke, a retired parochial school teacher with a voice that could stop an avalanche, lay asleep in her quarters at The Wellhouse. She worked the midnight shift every third week, and this was her rotation for September. She had a deeply rooted desire to help the women who came through this agency's doors seeking to find refuge and to change their ways. However, her many years of teaching preteen children had left her with a strong sense of order and the need for following the rules. As she lay still in her bed, she was startled awake by the ringing sound of the telephone. Groggily, she reached out and grabbed the receiver, assuming the call was an emergency request for help as was usually the case when the phone rang between midnight and seven in the morning.

"He-hello? The Wellhouse, this is Maggie."

"Ah, Miss Maggie, I hate to bother you so late at night," the male voice began, "but I live down the street from the Wellhouse. Now, I don't mind you all being in the neighborhood and helping out these poor, unfortunate prostitutes who have decided to clean themselves up and try to become somewhat respectable again, but… Ah, my little FiFi needed to go outside a little while ago. You know, she always wakes me up around this time of the morning. She drinks too much water before we go to bed, and she always needs to go outside to do her business around midnight –"

"Yes, and what did you say your name was?" Maggie politely asked, hoping to get him back on track with whatever story he was trying to tell.

"Smith, my name's Jonathan Smith. See, anyway… When I was taking my little FiFi outside to do her business, I saw one of your ladies walking out the front door. She went down to the end of the street and waited for a man in a red car to pick her up. Now, I don't mean to cause trouble, but we had a nice quiet and clean neighborhood until you all moved those hookers in here. I don't mind them being here if they REALLY want to become decent citizens, but we just can NOT have her soliciting on our sidewalks. I assume that you will take care of this quietly so that I won't have to call the mayor about what's going on down there, now isn't that right?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Ah…"

"Smith, Jonathan Smith. The woman I saw leaving and getting into that man's car had long dark hair and she was wearing jeans and a white shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, at the base of her neck."

Maggie sat up in bed, knowing that she had two residents who fit that description. "Okay, thank you Mr. Smith. I'll take care of this as soon as I see her. You won't need to call the mayor."

"So you'll handle this so I won't have to see such sinful behavior next time my little FiFi needs to do her business during the night?"

"That's right. I apologize for what happened, but I assure you that it won't happen again," Maggie explained, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Thank you for calling."

"Yes, Ma'am. You're welcome and I thank you kindly for handling this so quickly," he said before hanging up.

Maggie heaved a heavy sigh, slipping on her robe and slippers. She hated having to send one of the ladies back out on the streets, but rules were rules and they had been put in place for the safety of all the residents. She would wait up for the woman to return and give her the news. This behavior was unacceptable and wouldn't be tolerated. She would have to be out of The Wellhouse by the end of the day. Maggie padded down the hallway, heading for the kitchen to start a pot of coffee percolating. She had no idea how long of a wait she would have, but she couldn't go back to sleep until The Wellhouse was no longer responsible for the wayward young woman. As she walked by the middle bedroom, she hesitated, considering knocking to see which resident was out. Then she decided against it. There was no need to alarm the other resident in the bedroom or awaken the ladies in the nearby room. They were doing everything necessary to get out of the risky business. Now it seemed that this one dark-haired resident was determined to return to the streets, even at the risk of her own life.

E!

Hunley returned the receiver to the cradle, just as the water turned off in his guest bathroom. He stood up, tucking his shirt into his pants before heading out of his bedroom. He stood in the hallway outside his guest bathroom waiting for Bri to exit.

"Can we go now?" Bri asked, stepping out of the steaming hot room.

"Can't you at least comb your hair, maybe pull it back in a ponytail? You know how I like it that way," he said with a wicked grin, stroking her dark locks away from her face.

"I'll do it on the way. I've really got to get going, Lennie," she said, pushing past him towards the back door.

"Waaiitt," he drawled, grabbing her arm just above the elbow and squeezing hard. "We've got a few more things to discuss before you leave."

Bri's eyes widened. She knew that each moment she spent in Hunley's house made it more likely that she would be caught sneaking back into The Wellhouse. "Please don't. Can't we go over it another time?" She winced when he squeezed her arm tighter.

"We're going to go over it now, sweetheart. I own you, remember?" He snarled. "You've got quite a bit of money coming to you, but not until I get what I want, first."

"Lennie, please! I'm gonna do it. I swear I am, but I just don't wanna get kicked out of The Wellhouse. I mean, where would I go?"

"You survived on the streets before, you'll survive again. You've got all you need to take care of yourself," he smirked, glancing downward briefly and then back up at her face. "Now, come in my office. I want to show you how this works."

An hour later, Bri sat nervously inside the Assistant Chief's car as the two headed south on the Santa Monica Freeway.

"What is this thing called again?" She asked, turning the black box around in her hands.

"A Dictaphone," Hunley replied. "All you've got to do is hide it in this oversized hobo purse, and turn it on. Then try to get Alexia or even better, Mike Stoker, to talk about the fires. Even if you have to trick them into saying something. All I want to do is capture their voices. Hopefully, I can get enough recordings to put them together and make it sound like a confession… Unless you're able to get a full confession out of one of them," he grinned wickedly. "And if you hold it up next to the hearing part of the telephone receiver, then you can record their voices on the telephone."

Bri put the recording device back into the beige macramé purse she had been given. Nervously, she tugged on her ponytail. Minutes later, Hunley pulled up to the bus stop that was their usual meeting place.

"Alright, call me when you've got something. Oh," he said, abruptly reaching into his back pocket to remove his wallet. He withdrew a twenty and handed it to the young woman. "Here, you've earned it tonight," he sneered, knowing that she would be out on her own again in just a few hours. Then she would have no choice but to do his bidding. Until then, he would give her just enough to keep from starving… At least, until the hearing. Afterwards, he honestly didn't care if she lived or died. She meant nothing more to him than yesterday's news.

"Thanks," she mumbled, snatching the proffered bill out of his hands. She hated taking the money from him, especially when she deserved so much more for the amount of time she had spent with him, not to mention the different services she had performed. But, she would take whatever was given. She needed the money if she was ever going to be out on her own, and she had to purchase a few extra tapes for the Dictaphone. She inhaled the cool air as she stepped out into the night, closing the door behind her. She headed up the street to her temporary residence as Hunley pulled off in the red car returning to the comfort of his own home with a satisfied grin on his ruddy face.

Inside her bedroom, Alexia awoke to the aroma of coffee brewing. She looked at her clock and realized that it was only 2:00 am. She couldn't imagine who would be up at this hour, especially to be making coffee. When she glanced at Bri's bed in the dim light of the nightlight, her heart nearly stopped. The bed was empty and had not been slept in. Assuming that Bri had returned home late and needed a cup of coffee, Alexia decided to go out and try to talk to her again. What her roommate was doing was dangerous, and lying against Michael Stoker was wrong. Somehow, Alexia had to stop her.

Pulling her robe over her shoulders, she tiptoed out of their bedroom and made her way down the hallway. As she turned into the kitchen, she began to whisper loud enough for Bri to hear her.

"What're you doing out so late, Bri?" She asked, rounding the corner. What she saw made her stomach drop to the floor. "Um…"

"Alexia…," Maggie began, pouring herself a cup of strong black coffee. "I guess I don't have to wonder who it is that's out working the streets tonight, do I?"

Alexia immediately felt defensive. "She isn't out working the streets. She has a housekeeping job," the young woman announced boldly, knowing that Maggie had actually been correct in her assumption.

"Alexia, nobody cleans houses at two in the morning. Some businesses, maybe, but not houses. People are asleep at this time of the night," Maggie informed Alexia.

The younger woman stood trembling in the middle of the kitchen, tears welling up in her eyes. She hoped that her friend was safe, but she knew that as soon as she got home, Maggie would inform Bri that she would have to leave The Wellhouse. She began to wipe her eyes with the sleeves of her pajamas, unable to hide her worry and disappointment.

"Have a seat, Alexia," Maggie offered pulling out two chairs at the table. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

Alexia shook her head, negatively. "No, thank you."

Maggie stared at the young woman, her heart aching for what Alexia was going through. "Do you have any idea where your roommate is?"

Alexia felt her heart leap into her throat. She did have an idea of where Bri might be, but she had too much to lose by telling Maggie what she knew. If the Fire Marshall found out that Alexia had intervened in the arrangement he had with Bri, then he might take it out on Marco. He might cause even more problems for Michael. And the one thing that Alexia couldn't give up for anyone or anything was her relationship with her son, Antonio. But what if Bri was in danger? Could Alexia live with herself if she did nothing to help her? Then Marco's smiling face flashed before her eyes. He loved her and had never given up on finding her. She had to protect her family, her brother and her son. But wasn't Bri her family, too? They had been there for each other during the worst of times. Bri was the closest person to a sister that Alexia had ever had. She was also Alexia's best friend. Then Antonio's laughter filled her ears as she remembered their first meeting. She couldn't hurt him again. Her mind kept vacillating between various people and scenarios as she stared at the empty table.

"Alexia?"

"Mmm?" Alexia questioned, finally looking up at the older woman.

"Do you know where Bri is?"

Speaking carefully, so as not to lie, Alexia responded in the only way she could. "She just told me that she was going to her housekeeping job. That's all she said when she left."

"I see," Maggie said, lowering her face to stare into the dark cup of coffee she cradled in her hands. "You know that she'll have to leave, don't you?"

Alexia didn't answer. Instead, she kept her head bowed, her tears dripping off her chin onto her hands that were clasped in her lap. She nodded her head, sniffling.

A key jingling in the doorway pulled her attention away from the conversation.

"Bri?" Alexia said, her voice sounding hopeful as the two women scurried into the living room.

Bri tried to quietly close the door behind her, smelling the coffee and silently hoping that one of the other residents was just up early.

"Brittany?"

Bri recognized the voice, and it made her blood turn into an icy sludge in her veins. It was the shrill voice of the one person she prayed would be soundly asleep when she sneaked back into the residence. Slowly, she turned around clutching the beige purse closely to her side. "Yes, Ma'am?"

"I'm not going to ask you where you've been, because it really doesn't matter. You've violated curfew. You were seen sneaking out and getting into a red car earlier this evening. The rules do not allow such behavior as it threatens the safety of all the women here. You know how dangerous it is to have these, ah, consumers driving by this place during the night," Maggie stated, feeling her old school teacher personality returning. But this wasn't a disobedient child she was talking to, and the consequences of Bri's behavior were much more dangerous than those of a child misbehaving in the classroom.

"How long do I have?" Bri's shaky voice asked.

"You need to be out by 6:00 pm. I'm sorry it came to this," Maggie stated, returning to the kitchen to allow the two younger women a moment alone. She could tell they needed a few moments to talk to each other without her being present.

As soon as the young women were alone, Alexia wiped her eyes with her fingers and walked over to the place where Brittany remained standing, her head hanging down. "Bri… I'm so sorry," she whispered softly.

"Why?" Bri asked, never looking up at her roommate. "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Tell her," Bri responded, pointing her boney index finger down the hallway. "I told you I knew what I was doing, but you just couldn't leave me alone, could you?"

"Bri, I didn't tell-"

"Damn you! You have no idea what you've done, Lex. You've made things much worse for Michael than you realize," Bri said, her voice continuing to come in gasping spurts.

"Don't you dare blame me," Alexia protested. "I'm going to help Michael. YOU are the one making things worse for him. Now you've made things worse for yourself. Why? Why, Bri?"

Bri pushed past Alexia without giving her an answer.

Alexia followed closely behind the departing woman. "Why are you so intent on screwing things up?"

"I'm NOT screwing up anything, Lex. I'm making things right. I know you don't see it now, but you will. And you'll regret what you've done to me tonight," she said, flipping on the light of their bedroom and piling what few things she had into the backpack she had been given when she arrived.

"Bri, please… At least get a little sleep. You can't sleep on the streets; you know that. Try to get some rest. You don't have to leave until tonight. Rest, eat… Please?"

Bri zipped up her bag, slinging it onto her shoulder beside the macramé purse. "There's nothing here for me, now, Lex. I guess there really never was," she said, bumping her shoulder against the shoulder of her crying roommate as she stepped back out into the hallway. Hurriedly, she made her way to the front door. As she gripped the doorknob, she could hear Lexi's sobs behind her. "Don't cry for me, Lex," she said, never turning around to look at her former friend. "I'm out of your life, just like you wanted. If you're going to cry for someone, cry for Michael Stoker." She turned around, dark eyes glaring at her weeping former roommate. "He's got the most to lose because of what you've done."

"WHAT? How? I'm going to help him, not testify AGAINST him like you! So, how does he have the most to lose?"

"Never mind, Lex," Bri said, wiping her eyes. "Just never mind. I guess I'll see you at the hearing."

With that, Brittany walked out of the Wellhouse for the last time, heading into the night. Behind her, Alexia melted into a heap on the floor of the living room. Her soft whimpers wafted into the kitchen, tearing at the heart of the staff member who had been forced to send away her friend. Maggie quietly returned and knelt down beside the sobbing woman, enveloping her in a motherly hug. "Ssshhhhh," she crooned. "You've done nothing wrong, Alexia. Brittany has to live with the decisions she's made. And in a few months, if she ever wants to try again to get off the streets, we'll take her back. I promise."

"I don't understand, Maggie. I don't understand why she'd do it." Alexia stopped her questioning, feeling Maggie rubbing soothing circles on her back. Bri's last words were ringing inside her ears. How could Michael be hurt by Bri having to leave The Wellhouse? After all, it was Bri's false testimony against Michael that was going to cause him the most harm, wasn't it?

E!

Bri walked down the walkway, turning left instead of right. She wanted to get as far away from the bus stop where she met Leonard Hunley as she possibly could. Lennie had been right. She had what she needed to take care of herself, and she only had to do it for another week and a half. As soon as Mike Stoker's hearing was over, she would be out of this mess she was in. In fact, as soon as the hearing was over, she had no further reason to live.

As she meandered down the street devising a plan to get what she needed on the Dictaphone, she found herself walking into the warehouse district. The streets were abandoned, except for the occasional passing vehicle. Suddenly, a jolt knocked her off her feet, as a thunderous roar tore through the quiet night. She fell to the ground, scraping her hands and face on the pavement. She looked behind her at the bright orange plume that shot into the early morning sky, feeling as if hell itself had erupted from the bowels of the earth, reigning down the fire and brimstone the television preachers were always talking about.

"Argh! Ohmygod!"

E!

As dawn began to break, Chet threw the blanket off of his legs, stepping into his bunkers, and quietly made his way out the dorm and across the apparatus bay heading to the kitchen. He allowed his suspenders to dangle around his hips as he pushed through the kitchen door. He was too excited to sleep and figured he could make the crew a pot of coffee while he waited for his shift to end. He couldn't wait to stop by the jewelry store on his way home in preparation for his special evening with Caroline.

He pushed through the door, flipping the light on in the kitchen. The quietness was suddenly broken by the sound of the klaxons dropping a multitude of tones. "Ugh, not now!"

Chet ran out of the kitchen, heading for his seat on the engine. He stepped up quickly, slipping into his turnout coat as the rest of the station hustled to their respective seats. He heard their captain acknowledge the call and then the sound of the bay door rising, knowing that Hank had hit the button as he rounded the front of the squad. Their actions were well known to each other and was part of what made them a unified team. Roy hit the lights and siren, pulling into the empty street, thankful that not many people were up at this early hour. Behind him, Engineer Walker accelerated the engine, pulling out behind the smaller squad. Their destination was an explosion in the warehouse district, and they knew it was bad by the fact that it was a three alarm call. That made this run a very dangerous one for the responders. Chet left his plans for the evening behind him as he headed on the run. He needed to give this call, and all responses, his undivided attention. He didn't want to become a casualty of the explosion because now, he had a couple of people waiting on him to come home safely, today, and he hoped, forever.

E!

Across town, Mike was pouring himself a bowl of cereal when a special news bulletin interrupted his morning routine. He spun around in his seat at his kitchen table to see what the news crews were talking about. There, in the dimness of the early morning scene, was a huge warehouse fire.

"Damn," he muttered, his eyes scanning the scene without paying attention to the news reporter. With his experience, he could learn more from watching what was happening in the background than he could by listening to a talkative reporter. As the cameraman panned the scene of carnage, Mike was mesmerized. He saw truck after truck with numbers he recognized, searching for the one that meant the most to him. Then he saw it, the Ward LaFrance with the number 51 decal on the door. He saw a tall lanky man with a captain's stripe on his helmet, and knew that Captain Stanley was on the scene taking orders from the Battalion Chief. What would have appeared to be total chaos to the untrained observer, made perfect sense to the seasoned engineer, and he hated what he was seeing. He felt his blood pressure boiling, his respiration rate increasing, and beads of sweat popping out on his forehead. He should be there, fighting the dragon with his brothers instead of eating breakfast in his apartment. He should be there, protecting them, not at home, suspended for crimes he didn't commit. As soon as the reporter signed off, he stood up and began pacing, unsure of how to release his pent up energy.

In a fit of rage beyond anything he had ever felt before, he picked up his cereal bowl and hurled it against the kitchen wall. It crashed into pieces, splattering milk and soggy flakes across the wall. Sharp glass shards sparkled on the floor, beneath the flashing red lights on the television screen. "Damn it all to hell!" He seethed, his jaw muscles achingly tense. Knowing he needed to do something to get rid of his anxious energy, he quickly got dressed in shorts and a sweatshirt, grabbed his keys and headed out the front door. He needed to jog for a while, not only to remain in shape, but to get rid of the adrenaline he was feeling coursing through his veins. As he closed the door behind him, he heard his telephone beginning to ring. Ignoring it, he turned and walked away, heading for the sidewalk to stretch before his workout. Whomever was calling would have to wait until after his run when his head was clearer and his anger had been replaced by calmness.

E!

At headquarters, Sam Bennett held the receiver to his ear, listening as the telephone rang repeatedly, wondering where the suspended engineer might have gone at 7:30 am. The ringing continued as he stared at the file he held before him. He replayed all the events related to the investigation, including the heated exchange he had overheard between the Fire Marshall and Captain Stanley. Something was missing, but what? A knock on his door pulled his attention away from the ringing telephone echoing in his ear. He replaced the receiver as he called out to the person on the other side of his closed door.

"Come in."

"Good morning, Sam," his coworker announced. "We're being summoned to the warehouse district. Got a three-alarmer down there that seems a little suspicious," the shorter man announced.

"Alright, I'll head that way," Sam responded. Deciding that he would do more good at the scene of the warehouse fire than sitting behind his desk, he stood up and pulled on his jacket. Locking his door behind him, he headed down the hallway to the stairs. He took them two at a time in his rush to get across town to the blaze.

By the time Sam arrived on scene, the battle was nearly three hours old, and yet the dragon refused to be tamed. He watched as the vicious orange beast struggled against the threads of restraint of the many streams of water spewing forth from the various fire apparatuses surrounding her, yet she continued to buck, fight, and spit her molten venom into the smoky Los Angeles morning. Sam was allowed to pass through the law enforcement barricade that had been set up around the perimeter, but he didn't park very close. The last thing he wanted to do was to get in the way of those fighting the flames. Instead, he stood among a small group of bystanders, some of whom appeared to be homeless, who were gathered in awe of the war being waged in front of them. Instinctively, he searched the crowd, looking for anyone who seemed to be out of place. He knew that criminals often returned to the scene of the crime, and even though this had not yet been deemed a crime scene, he knew that there were likely only two possibilities of how the fire started in a vacant building, both of which involved humans – accident or arson.

Over the next couple of hours, he scanned the faces of those gathered to watch the men of the Los Angeles County Fire Department, including his supervisor, Leonard Hunley, doing what they do best. The warehouse took up a couple of blocks, and he walked around the perimeter a couple of times looking for anyone who seemed suspicious. Suddenly, his eyes fell on a young woman who was receiving treatment from a paramedic from Station 110. Assuming that she had been close enough to the blaze to sustain her injuries, he made his way through the crowd, heading in her direction. He needed to talk to her in case she had information about the fire that might help the investigation. As he approached the place where the young woman sat, he overheard her sassy responses to the paramedic's questions.

"Well, why don't you let me clean these up for you? You don't want to get an infection," the young paramedic informed her.

"I don't care about an infection. I just got knocked down by the blast," she explained, feeling awkward by the way he was so tenderly caring for her injured chin.

The paramedic noticed strange bruising along her upper arm and around her throat that obviously didn't come from being thrown to the ground by the force of the explosion. "How'd you get these bruises?"

"Nunya," she said, sarcastically.

"I know," the paramedic continued, rolling his eyes. "None of my business," he stated, understanding where she was going by her choice of syllables.

A few moments later, the uniformed man cleaned up the medical debris and snapped his medical box closed. "Alright, if you see any signs of infection, make sure to see your doctor. I've got to get back to the scene now," he said, nodding his head at the approaching arson investigator.

"You okay?" Sam asked, kneeling down beside the young woman.

"I'm fine," she said, turning her head to look back at the blaze. She saw Leonard Hunley standing around talking to the Battalion Chief. She wanted to run to him, to yell at him for getting her home late, to beg him for a place to stay until the hearing. Yet, she knew she couldn't let their relationship be known. He had too much to lose if his superiors found out he had been having a relationship with a woman like her.

Sam watched as the young woman turned her head back around towards the blaze, the bruising along her neck and upper arm telling a very ugly story. "Miss, are you sure you're okay? Do you need a ride to the hospital?" He asked, hoping she might take him up on his offer.

She shook her head, her eyes never leaving the area where Assistant Chief Hunley stood.

"I can take you home, if you'd like?"

His question hit her like a ton of bricks. She had no home. The streets were her home now. She looked up at the investigator, assuming by his suit that he was a police officer. "You vice?"

Sam smiled. "No, I'm an arson investigator with the fire department. Were you here when this started?"

Bri rolled her eyes. "You think I did this? I might be homeless, but I didn't do this. I'm not a fire-starter," she stated, as an idea quickly began to form inside her mind. Discreetly, she slipped her hand down inside her purse and pressed the button Leonard had told her to press. "Um… I'm homeless because my apartment got torched a few months ago," she stated, baiting the arson investigator.

"Torched? Deliberately set on fire?" Sam questioned.

"Yes… They think they know who did it, though. Mike Stoker… You know him? He works for the department," she suggested, carefully opening up her bag a little further to make sure that her words were being recorded clearly above the sounds of the battle going on in front of her.

"Mike Stoker?" Sam clarified. "Miss, I'm investigating him for a series of arsons. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Inside her chest, Bri's heart was thudding boldly. This might be her only chance to prove to Hunley that she was working on his side to help him get Mike Stoker dismissed from his position, maybe even jailed for arson.

"I don't mind at all," she acknowledged. "My name's Brianna Olivier," she said, reverting to her street name. "You can call me Bri."

"Hello, Bri. I'm Samford Bennett, but you can call me, Sam," he stated, wondering if she was the same Bri that Alexia Lopez had told him about.

E!

It was midmorning by the time A-shift returned to quarters. Chet was the only one who wanted to take a shower before he left the station. The others were too exhausted to expend the energy. Each one climbed into his vehicle and headed away from the station. Hank wanted to get home to Becca, to hug her and their daughters. Roy climbed into his gold Porsche, grateful to have the top down so that he wouldn't have to smell the stench as he drove home. Johnny rolled down the windows of his Rover, allowing the warm breeze to cool his sweat and soot-covered face as he hurried to his apartment and the peace of his own hot shower. Marco climbed inside his sedan, anxious to get home and get cleaned up. He was looking forward to his evening with Beverly.

Chet lathered up his body and shampooed his hair. For the first time in many shifts, he wasn't worried about running out of hot water. As soon as he was cleaned and towel dried off, he quickly dressed in his street clothes and headed for his van. He had already made reservations at Niccoli's, hoping that this evening would have a very different outcome than on their first trip. Now, he pulled into the jewelry store to pick up the two gifts he had picked out. He just hoped that he wasn't going to be returning them tomorrow.

E!

That evening, Marco pulled into the parking lot of The Pourhouse five minutes before six o'clock. He looked around, feeling anxious when he didn't see Beverly's car in the parking lot.

"Settle down, Lopez. If she was going to cancel, she would've called," he said to himself, trying to relax his nerves. He hadn't been out on a date in a long time, yet he had never felt quite this nervous before. Ten minutes later, when she still hadn't arrived, he began to sweat. Had he been stood up? Had something happened to Beverly? Was Alexia alright? His chest felt like it was full of butterflies, just as a gentle knock on his car window startled him. A bright smile broke out beneath his mustache as he looked up to see Beverly standing at his car door waving to him.

He quickly opened the door. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't see you drive up," he said, embarrassed to have been caught daydreaming.

"It's okay. I'm sorry, I'm late. We had an event at The Wellhouse today." Quickly, she held up her hands with her palms facing out. "No, no, Alexia's fine. I'm afraid her roommate had to leave though."

"What? Bri had to leave? Why?" He asked, walking beside her as they headed for the front door of the diner.

"Well, actually, it's a confidential matter, but I'm sure Alexia will tell you about it when you see her next time," Beverly stated, feeling a slight blush creep up around her neck when Marco held open the door for her. "Thank you," she said with a smile as she entered the diner ahead of him.

"Welcome to The Pourhouse, take a seat wherever you like," Amy said in her usual greeting.

The couple took a seat in a back booth, outside of Amy's usual area. Within a minute, a younger waitress came over with a pot of coffee. "Hey, Marco. I figured you'd want some coffee. What can I get for you, Ma'am?" She asked, spilling Marco's coffee on the table when Beverly looked up at her. "Oh, um… Hey," the waitress stammered.

"Hello, Gretchen," Beverly said, politely pointing to the waitress's nametag with a smile. "I'll just have a glass of water, please."

Gretchen knitted her eyebrows together in confusion as she passed the two customers their menus and cleaned up the spilled coffee. "Yes, ma'am. I'll be right back with your drink order," she said, walking backwards away from the table.

"Um, Marco, I need to go to the restroom. If she comes back, I'd like a bowl of vegetable soup and a side salad, please," Beverly said, slipping out of the booth. She walked hurriedly to the bathroom, jerking her head to her right as she passed by Gretchen. She was relieved when the younger woman followed her.

Inside the restroom, Gretchen became very nervous. "I'm sorry, Beverly. I just wasn't expecting you here," Gretchen apologized.

"It's okay, but I pointed at your nametag when I called out your name. I wanted you to know that I recognized you, but I didn't want to make Marco suspicious. I didn't tell him anything, and I won't," the counselor reminded the nervous young waitress.

A slight smile crept across Gretchen's face. "Thank you. I just don't want anybody to know about… About all that stuff. It's all behind me now," she said, proudly.

"I'm proud of you, Gretchen. You're one of our success stories, but the story is yours to tell. It isn't mine and I won't ever breathe a word to anyone, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am. Um, may I ask you something?" Gretchen said, curling her blonde hair around her index finger, nervously.

"Of course," Beverly responded, taking a step closer to the restroom door.

"Are you on a date with Marco?"

"Maybe…," the counselor responded, her own grin beginning to appear. "I haven't decided exactly what to call it just yet," she replied.

"Good for you, Beverly. He's a really nice man," Gretchen announced, holding open the door as Beverly walked out ahead of her.

"I couldn't agree with you more, Gretchen," the counselor said, eyeing the back of Marco's head. He had been so kind and respectful to her. She wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. Even though they were in a small diner, this was her first real date, and she couldn't have been happier.

E!

Chet stood outside of Caroline's apartment, dressed in his best suit. He quickly huffed a breath into his cupped hands, ensuring that he didn't need a mint, before knocking on her door.

"Mizzer Phet's here!" Corrie cried out from behind the closed door.

Chet couldn't stop the grin that lit up his face as he listened to the quiet conversation between mother and daughter behind the closed door. When Caroline finally opened the door, Chet felt as if the air was sucked right out of his lungs. Caroline had her hair pulled up on top of her head with ringlets cascading down her back and along her temples to frame her beautiful face. She was wearing a sunshine yellow dress gathered at the waist to accent her figure. Her eyes were sparkling as she took in the site of her handsome beau.

"Well, won't you come in?"

"Um, yea, yea… Wow, you look so pretty," he complimented, feeling Corrie tugging on his jacket as she tried to climb up into his arms. Chet reached down, picking up the eager child, never letting his eyes leave the face of his beloved. "Corrie, your mommy is one gorgeous lady."

Corrie reached out her pudgy hands, landing them on Chet's cheeks and pulling his face around to her. "I pretty, too."

The lineman chuckled, kissing the little girl on her forehead. "Yes, Ladybug, you're very pretty, too. Mizzer Phet is so proud to be out with his girls."

"It sure was nice of Joanne and Roy to offer to keep her tonight," Caroline said, picking up Corrie's bag from the sofa. When she stepped up beside Chet, he surprised her with a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Yes, it was. They said they were happy to do it. Jennifer really likes pretending to be a big sister," he stated, still carrying Corrie in his arms as Caroline locked her apartment door and the trio walked across the parking lot to Chet's van.

"JENNY!" Corrie announced. "I'm havin' a sleepin' party with Jenny!" The child sang in her cherubic voice.

Chet situated her in the backseat of his van, closing the door and then opening the front door for Caroline. He leaned in for another quick kiss. He quickly made his way around to the driver's side of the van, climbing inside and taking one more look at Caroline, his eyes drinking in her beauty. "Baby, you are more beautiful than I've ever seen you. I swear, you are radiant," he mused, winking at her as he turned the ignition. He couldn't wait to get this evening started.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Beverly returned to the booth, smiling as she sat down. An unexpected rush of flutters started in her stomach, moving upwards to her throat. She tried to clear away the nervousness as she picked up the menu.

"Ahem, let's see. What do I want?"

Marco eyed her suspiciously. "I thought you wanted soup and salad," he said, concerned that she was having second thoughts about their evening out.

"Oh, yes," Beverly chuckled. "I guess I forgot." She was relieved to see Gretchen returning with her water.

"Here you go, water with lime, just the way you like it," Gretchen announced, setting the cold glass down in front of her former counselor. She hadn't forgotten Beverly's preference for a lime slice in her water instead of the usual lemon. "Are you ready to order?"

"Um, I believe the lady ordered plain water," Marco stated, using his kindest voice. He didn't want to embarrass Gretchen.

"No, no. I, um, I asked her to add a lime when I was on my way to the restroom," Beverly said, covering for Gretchen. "I really like lime in my water."

"Really? So do I," Marco announced with a smile. "I guess we have more in common than we thought."

Gretchen cast a grateful glance at Beverly, silently mouthing her thanks. "Would you like a glass of water with a lime slice, Marco?"

"Yes, I believe I would," he agreed, then nodded his head in Beverly's direction. "Ladies first."

"Thanks, um… I'll have the vegetable soup and a side salad with French dressing, please," Beverly ordered. "Oh, and these are separate checks."

Gretchen knitted her eyebrows together in confusion, wondering why Beverly would be going Dutch on a date with a gentleman like Marco Lopez. "Okay," she said, flipping the page in her order book. "Marco?"

"I think I'll have the club sandwich with chips."

"Alright, I'll put these orders in, and I'll be right back with your water and lime," the young waitress said, reaching into her apron for a couple of straws, and dropping them on the table between the two patrons.

As soon as Gretchen departed, Marco spoke up. "Are you okay, Beverly?"

"Yes, of course; why do you ask?" She questioned, bouncing her knee and toying with the silverware near her hand.

Marco smiled. "Well, you just seem nervous, that's all."

"Nervous? I'm not nervous. Why would I be nervous? I mean, I'm having dinner with a very nice man and…" She stopped and looked up into the dark eyes of the man sitting across from her. She gulped, darting her eyes around the table. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes for a moment. "Marco, can I be totally honest with you?"

"Only if you put down the knife," he chuckled.

Quickly, Beverly dropped the knife she didn't realize she had been holding. "I'm sorry. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Gretchen returning with his drink. Marco thanked the young woman, then picked up the lime and squeezed the juice into the glass of water. After Gretchen left, he dried his hands on a napkin before looking back over at the sad face of his date.

"Beverly, if you aren't comfortable being with me tonight, I completely understand. Let's just eat our meal, and then we can go our separate ways," he said, hoping to give her the out she seemed to be so desperately searching for.

"No… That isn't it," Beverly said softly. "I need to tell you something, but please don't laugh at me."

Marco's heart pounded inside his chest so loudly that he was sure she could hear it. "I'd never laugh. I'm not that kind of man."

Beverly looked down at her lap, wringing her hands. "I know. I'm just… Well," she shifted her eyes up from her lap, but kept them staring at the table instead of looking at Marco. She couldn't bear to see his face when she told him the truth. "Here goes… I don't know how to behave on a date." There, she had said it. She waited for the guffaws she was sure were coming. Instead, she saw a masculine tanned hand reaching across the table. His palm was upturned, inviting her to place her hand in his as a show of trust. Slowly, she laid her hand gently in his, grateful when he didn't close his larger hand around her smaller one. She didn't think she could handle feeling trapped.

"There's no certain way to behave. You just be yourself and I'll be myself. If we have a good time tonight, then maybe we can do it again. If we don't, then at least we'll know. May I ask you a question?" He asked, still allowing her soft hand to rest inside his calloused one.

"Yes."

"You've shared a lot of your past with me since we met when Lexi was first hospitalized, and I'll never ever use it against you. I promise you that. But, have you ever been on a date before?"

She shook her head, embarrassed by her lack of socialization. Having entered the world of prostitution at a young age meant she hadn't taken part in the same rites of passage that other women had enjoyed when they were teenagers.

"Well, I haven't been on many, either. I don't go out with women just to, ah, have a good time, you know? I mean, what I'm trying to say is that… There's no expectations here. I'm not looking for anything from you except just some light conversation while we enjoy a meal together. That's all, okay?"

Beverly felt her eyes welling up with tears. She hated crying, but his tender words and strong hand were so non-threatening. He was giving her exactly what she needed without even realizing it. She nodded her head in affirmation then managed to croak out a response around the lump in her throat. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he whispered, wanting to give her hand a gentle squeeze, but he dared not push his luck. He remembered the advice she had given him about how best to communicate with Lexi, and he chose to keep their physical contact to a minimum. She was responding to his words, and he wanted to get their date back on track. He lifted his open palm up slightly, smiling a little when she withdrew her hand from his. "Now, where were we? Oh, yes. We were talking about how much we like limes."

Beverly reached for her glass, sliding the straw down between the ice cubes and swirling the green lime around. She looked across the table at the first man who had ever seemed to treat her like a lady. Deep inside her heart, she was certain that this would be their one and only date. After all, Marco had alluded to the fact that if they didn't have a good time, they didn't have to go out again. That could only mean that he wasn't enjoying himself. Besides, what was in it for him? Nothing – he had made that perfectly clear. Even so, she was determined to enjoy herself on her very first, and possibly last, date.

E!

Chet flipped on his blinker, turning his van into the DeSoto's driveway. He shifted into park, holding up his hand to stop Caroline from opening her door. "No, no," he said, reaching for her left hand and bringing it gently to his lips for a feather-light kiss along her bare knuckles. If everything went the way he had planned, this same hand would be adorned with a diamond solitaire by the end of the evening. "Let me get the door for you, my lady."

Caroline watched in awe as Chet stepped out of the van and walked around the front of the vehicle. She was smiling when he reached her door. He wrapped his fingers around the handle, opening the door, and offering her his free hand. "Why thank you, kind sir," she said, standing beside him as he slid open the back passenger's door to assist Corrie.

Chet looked inside at the giggling little girl he dearly loved. He gave her a quick wink then offered her his hand to help her down onto the walkway. "Ladybug, you are looking as pretty as your mommy, tonight." He gave her a sweeping bow, puckering his lips for a loud smacking kiss on the back of her pudgy hand. Straightening back up, he offered his arm to Caroline while he used his other hand to grip Corrie's smaller one. "Shall we?"

Caroline accepted his proffered arm, charmed by his mannerisms. She had no idea what was going on, but she was certainly enjoying the evening, so far. Together the trio made their way up the steps to the DeSotos' front door, where Caroline used her freshly manicured finger to ring the doorbell.

Inside the residence, Roy wiped the smug grin off of his face. He and Joanne both knew what was going on, but they had been sworn to secrecy. He pulled open the heavy wooden door. "Hello, come on in."

"Corrie!" Shouted the youngest DeSoto. "C'mon, Mom's baking cookies, but we can't have any until we eat our dinner. We'll take your bag to my room, and then we can play with my Barbies while we wait," said Jennifer, enjoying her moment as the bossy big sister.

"Corrie, you be a good girl," Caroline said, bending down to kiss her daughter on the cheek.

Chet patted the child on the top of her head. "G'night, Ladybug. We'll see you tomorrow when we pick you up."

"Okay," the happy child announced, bouncing behind Jennifer DeSoto as they made their way up the stairs.

Joanne walked out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel. "You two have a good time, and don't you worry about her. She'll be just fine."

Caroline reached her arms around Joanne's neck. "Thank you so much, Joanne. Maybe you and Roy can go out sometime and Jennifer can stay with us."

When Joanne felt the younger woman pulling back, she released her from the hug, offering her a quick wink. "Maybe," she said, glancing in Roy's direction.

Roy shook Chet's hand, slapping the shorter man on the shoulder. "Yes, you two enjoy yourselves. And we just might take you up on that offer, Caroline."

Chet turned to his date. "Ready?"

"Yes, I'm starving," she said, looking longingly at the man she loved. He was behaving oddly, but then odd behavior really wasn't all that unusual for Chester B. Kelly, she reminded herself. She walked through the door as Roy held it open for her, still grinning when Chet stepped ahead of her to open the passenger's door of the van.

"I'll get that," the Irishman announced with a firm grip on the door handle.

"Thank you, Chet." She waited for him to take his seat and start up the van before she continued their conversation. "So, where are we going?"

Chet forced himself to look at the road instead of at the image of beauty seated beside him. It was not an easy task. "Well, I know you like Niccoli's, and our last trip there didn't end so well. So, I was hoping we could use tonight to make new and better memories."

Caroline's eyes widened with delight. "But, isn't that expensive?"

He cast her a quick glance. "Only the best for you, my lady."

"Chet, what's gotten into you? You're acting all…," she waved her hand in front of her face. "I don't know… All goofy."

"I'm just happy," he explained, hoping that he would still be smiling at the end of the night. Her acceptance of his proposal wasn't guaranteed, but he was going to do everything possible to convince her that he was the right man to spend the rest of her life with.

E!

"How's your soup?"

"It's really tasty," Beverly said, looking up at Marco and giggling.

"Did I say something funny?" He asked, unaware of the lettuce shred dangling from the corner of his mustache.

"Ahaa, ah, no… No," she repeated, picking up her napkin, and reaching across the table to remove the offending vegetable. "There… All better," she snickered.

"What was it?" He asked, shame coloring his face.

"Just a little lettuce."

"Oh," he said, rolling his eyes. "Sorry, Beverly. I didn't mean to embarrass you in public."

Beverly smiled, relaxing for the first time since she had arrived at the diner. "You don't embarrass me, Marco. It could happen to anybody."

"Only men with mustaches," he groused, taking another bite of his sandwich. He swallowed, running the napkin across his lower face from one ear to the other. "Am I presentable?"

"Yes, you are always presentable," she said, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Maybe I should shave my mustache."

Beverly sipped her water, looking crossly at her date. "Oh, no… Don't do that, please? I really like your mustache. It makes you look so distinguished."

Marco waggled his eyebrows, his level of comfort growing with each passing minute. "Distinguished, huh?" He repeated, running his fingers down his dark mustache. "As long as you like it, that's all that really matters," he stated, looking back down at his plate, unsure of what she was thinking when she didn't respond.

Joyous laughter filled the booth as the two of them continued with their meal and conversation until Gretchen returned to check on them.

"Do either of you want any dessert?" The waitress asked. "We've got hot apple pie with vanilla ice cream, and chocolate cake with chocolate icing."

"Oh, none for me, thanks," Beverly quickly stated, patting her stomach.

Marco turned his wrist over to look at his watch, noting that the night was still very young and he was enjoying his time with Beverly. In an effort to prolong the date, he decided to order apple pie with ice cream. "Will you bring two spoons, Gretchen? Maybe Beverly would like at least a couple of bites."

"I guess you might as well bring me a cup of coffee, too," Beverly said with a warm smile. "Apple pie and ice cream just doesn't taste good with water," she laughed.

"Coming right up," Gretchen said, turning on her heels, leaving the couple alone.

"Uh, you will tell me if I have ice cream dripping off my distinguished mustache, won't you?" Marco asked, using his most flirty voice.

"Maybe… Or, maybe not," the counselor snickered in response.

An hour later, Beverly was still enjoying her evening with Marco when a yawn suddenly overtook her. "Oh, my… I'm sorry."

"Am I boring you?" Marco asked.

"Of course not. In fact, I'm having a wonderful time. I don't remember the last time I laughed so much," she said wistfully.

Taking his cue, Marco pushed past his anxiety. "Did you enjoy it enough to maybe… Maybe go out with me again, sometime?"

Beverly sat staring into the dark eyes of the kindest man she had ever met. There was something special about Marco Lopez. "Yes… Yes, I'd really like that, Marco."

The two paid their respective checks, and Marco held open the diner door for her. They walked towards the parking lot, a little closer to each other than when they walked in. Marco followed her to her car, opening the door for her.

"I had a wonderful time, Marco. Really, I did. I never imagined that a date could be so much fun."

"Thank you for agreeing to go out with me." An uncomfortable silence followed, interrupted only when Marco looked deeply into her emerald eyes. "Do you mind if I call you?"

"I'd like that," she said, pulling a pen out of her purse. She reached inside her car, retrieving an old receipt from the ashtray. "Here," she began, writing down her telephone number. "Here's my number," she said, giving him the slip of paper.

"Is it okay if I call you later tonight? I just want to make sure you get home safely," he explained, slipping the receipt into his shirt pocket.

"I don't mind at all. In fact, I'd really appreciate it. That's very nice of you," she commented. Something inside her wanted to lean into him, to feel protected by his muscular frame, and maybe even kiss his cheek. She restrained herself, knowing that such behavior might be offensive to him. She could tell that he was a gentleman, different from all the other men she had ever been around.

Marco wanted to envelope her in a hug, to inhale the scent of her shampoo, and feel the feminine curves of her body. However, he had agreed to keep his distance. The last thing he wanted to do was to frighten her. "Um, thank you again for a wonderful evening. I'll call you in a little while, just to make sure that you're okay."

"Yes, you ah… You said that, already," she kidded.

"Hmmm, I guess I did," he mumbled, tapping the asphalt nervously with the toe of his shoe. "Um, I guess this is it, huh?"

"I guess so," she said, slipping into her car. "I'll, ah… I'll talk to you soon?"

"Yes…," he said, nodding his head at her and closing her door. He watched as she backed out of her parking space and drove off into the night, carrying his heart away with her.

He walked over to his burgundy sedan, unlocking it and taking a seat behind the wheel. He watched in the distance as a young woman leaned inside a car window, talking to the driver. A few years ago, he wouldn't have given the scene another thought. Now, with his knowledge of the seedy night life lurking in the shadows of Los Angeles, he understood exactly what was happening.

"Don't do it, Miss," he whispered to himself, wishing he could stop the young woman from getting into the car with the unknown driver. He watched as she pulled a beige macramé purse onto her shoulder, then opened the passenger's side door. The driver made a quick U-turn with his dark-haired passenger in the seat beside him, heading for the older section of town. An area known for drug use and prostitution. "Thank you, God, for helping Mike and me to get Lexi off the streets," he prayed out loud, realizing that the young woman could have just as easily been his sister a few short weeks ago. "Now, please help Mike to get out of this mess he's in with the investigation," he continued to pray as he cranked up his own car, pulling out of the parking lot and heading home.

E!

At The Wellhouse, Alexia sat in the living room, staring at the telephone on the wall. She wanted to call Michael Stoker, to warn him about Bri's plan. The only problem was that she really didn't know what Bri's plan was. Her friend's words kept echoing through her memory. Bri had asked Alexia to trust her and that she knew what she was doing, but Alexia wasn't so sure. If Bri really knew what she was doing, then why was she helping a man like Hunley destroy someone as wonderful as Michael Stoker? Alexia gulped back her tears, forcing back her concerns about where Bri might be and what the young woman was doing.

Finally, deciding that she had no other options, she stood up and walked over to the wall phone. On the small shelf beneath the telephone, lay a thick telephone book. She picked it up, thumbing through the residential section, searching for the 'S' section. Her finger ran down the page, scrolling through the black print until she found the name she had been searching for. 'Michael Stoker 555-6598,' she read out loud, reaching for the receiver. As soon as she heard the dial tone, she began dialing the number. It only rang twice before a very masculine voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Um, is this Michael Stoker?" Alexia asked, her voice sounding uncertain.

"Yes, who's calling?" The engineer asked, not recognizing the soft feminine voice.

"Ah… This is Lexi, Lexi Lopez."

Mike placed a hand on the back of a chair at his kitchenette, pulling it out to take a seat. "Lexi, it's good to hear your voice. You, um, you sound much better, stronger." Mike's mind began to swarm with questions about why Marco's sister was calling him. Then, fears for the welfare of his friend made his heart leap into his throat. "Ah, is Marco okay? He isn't hurt or anything, is he?" He had heard on the evening news that there had been two firefighters injured at the warehouse fire that morning. Concern for Marco and the rest of his shiftmates squeezed his chest, constricting his lungs.

"No, he's fine. Nothing is wrong with him. He's…," Lexi hesitated, wondering if she should tell Mike about Marco's date with Beverly. Deciding that Marco's private life wasn't for her to share, she cleared her throat and pushed on with the news that she wanted to share with him. "Ahem, Michael?"

"Yes, I'm still here."

"I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you saving my life, and… And getting me off the street. When we first met, I didn't realize that you and Marco were friends. If I had known that, I never would've, um… I wouldn't've tried to, well… I never would've offered myself to you in return for the food." She felt as if she was going to faint with the admission. Her legs began to tremble, and she had to take a seat on the floor to make sure she didn't fall.

"You didn't know, and I'm sorry I had to keep that part a secret from you. I don't like lying, Lexi. I really don't, but if I'd been completely honest with you, then you would've run away from me. As long as you were with me, then I knew you were safe," Mike explained, surprised by the openness he was hearing in the young woman's comments.

"I'm really sorry about what you're going through, now. If you hadn't been out looking for me, then you wouldn't be accused of the fires." Alexia sniffled, unable to hold back the tears. "I'm so… So sorry, Michael. I wish I could make it all go away."

Mike pinched the bridge of his nose. He had always hated when women cried around him. It wasn't any easier to hear it over the phone than it was to see it in person. "Sshhh," he soothed. "You didn't do anything wrong. This isn't your fault, and it isn't Marco's fault, either. The hearing is next week, and everything will be cleared up. I didn't do anything wrong, Lexi. I hope you believe that."

"Of course I do. I know you didn't do it. The fire in my apartment was started by Ricardo. I've told the police that and I've told Mr. Bennett that, too," she said quickly, trying to convince him that she was on his side.

"I appreciate that. I really do," Mike explained, running his fingers through his hair. "You just concentrate on getting your life back in order, and let me worry about the hearing. How's your son?" He asked, trying to change the direction of the conversation.

"He's wonderful, Michael. He's so sweet and smart. And he's such a handsome little fellow."

Mike could almost hear her smiling through the telephone. "That's wonderful, Lexi. I hope you're enjoying your time with him. He's a great kid."

"Yes… My Mama's done a good job taking care of him for me." Her voice dropped as she thought once more of how her life had changed in just a few weeks.

Mike heard the silence and wanted to fill it with something positive. "And you'll do great with him when you move back home and take over his care. You're a strong and determined young woman."

Alexia blushed at the compliment she felt she didn't deserve. "Thanks, um, I need to tell you something, Michael."

Mike felt a sense of dread hovering over him like a thick heavy cloud. "I was hoping this was just a social call, but I guess it isn't. What's wrong?"

"It's Bri. I don't know what's wrong with her, but she's been going out at night and meeting up with an old john of hers. That got her kicked out of here this morning, so she's back on the streets." She wanted to tell Michael that the man was the Fire Marshall, but Lexi had no proof of the man's identity, and so, she decided to hold onto the piece of information until she was able to confirm it.

Mike closed his eyes, trying not to think about what the young woman was doing. He had seen a very ugly dark side of Los Angeles during the weeks he was working with Alexia, and to think about Alexia's friend selling herself on the streets again made him nearly vomit. "I'm sorry, Lexi. I really am. If there's anything I can do to help, just-"

"No, Mike. You can't help her. It's like she's gone crazy. Just stay away from her, okay?" Alexia warned, not wanting to tell him the details, but knowing that he would ask.

"Why?"

"Because she's trying to hurt you. She's planning to testify at your hearing," Alexia said, her voice merely a whisper.

"Testify to what?"

Alexia inhaled deeply, feeling a throbbing pain in the side of her head. She pressed her fingers to her temple, rubbing tiny circles in an effort to relieve the pain and pressure. "Your guilt."

"WHAT?" Mike questioned, louder than he intended. "But, I'm not guilty. Why would she do that?"

"I'm… I'm not sure, but… I think she thinks you started the fire in her apartment."

Mike jumped up from his seat and began pacing around his kitchen, wrapping himself up in the telephone cord. He tried to calm his breathing, thinking carefully about what he wanted to say to Alexia. "You're right, she is crazy. I was on duty the day her apartment caught on fire. I responded to it, remember?"

"Yes, I do. She's lying, Michael… I just… I just wanted you to know before you got to the hearing," Alexia explained, wishing that she hadn't called him. She had caused him to become upset and angry.

"Yea… Thanks for calling me. At least it'll give me time to prepare for her version of events. She's going to look foolish, you know that, don't you?"

"I know… And, I also wanted to tell you something else."

"What?" Mike asked, worried that she was about to drop another bombshell on him.

"I'm going to be there, too. I'm going to testify at your hearing to tell those men that you didn't do it. And to make sure Bri's statement is seen for what it really is - a lie."

Mike shook his head quickly. "No, no, no. You don't need to do that. You don't know how brutal these things can be. I won't let you go through the grilling they'll put you through. It's not worth it, Lexi."

"You don't really have a choice, Michael. I'm going to be there to testify. I know exactly what brutal is, and believe me, it isn't a hearing in front of the fire department brass. You saved me from a life of brutality, and now, I'm going to return the favor," she stated, quickly hanging up the phone before he could refuse her again. She had already made up her mind. She would be there to dispute whatever lie her former roommate was planning on telling. Michael Stoker was one of the good guys, and the Los Angeles County Fire Department couldn't afford to lose him – and neither could Alexia.

E!

"I just love this place," Caroline said, looking around at the décor of Niccoli's Italian Restaurant.

The young couple was escorted to the back of the facility, away from most of the other guests. They were seated beneath a small indoor tree beside a bubbling water fountain. The white candle in the center of the table was flickering against the hurricane globe protecting it.

Caroline looked around in child-like wonder. "Wow, this is incredible. I don't remember this area from our first trip here," she stated, looking around at the room decorated like a courtyard. The ceiling was sparkling with tiny white lights, appearing like stars shining above their heads. The stone floor mimicked a cobblestone street, and a wrought iron bench beneath the glow of a gas lantern on a lamp post completed the scene. "I feel like I'm in a fancy courtyard restaurant in another country."

"It is nice, isn't it?" Chet commented, watching as the waiter poured two glasses of wine. As soon as the man in the black suit gave him a knowing wink and walked away, Chet held up his glass. "What should we drink to?"

"To us!" She exclaimed.

"To us," he agreed, tapping his glass to hers, then taking a sip. "Mmm, this is excellent."

"Be careful, it'll hit you fast," she reminded him, thinking of all the confusion that resulted from their last night at this restaurant.

"Things are different now. You were nervous that night," Chet stated, taking another sip. "You seem more relaxed tonight."

"You don't seem so relaxed, Chet," she announced, seeing his fingers tapping against the base of his wine glass. She watched as he used his napkin to wipe the sweat from his brow. "Are you sure you're feeling alright? You look a little flushed."

"Nah, I'm fine… Fine," he said, opening up the menu. "What looks good?"

An hour later, the two of them were finishing up their meal, while Chet's knee bounced nervously beneath the white tablecloth. He noticed that Caroline had only consumed one glass of wine, while he was enjoying his third. "More wine?"

"No, I think I'll stick with just this one glass. I don't want to fall on the bathroom floor, again. Besides," she said, reaching across and stroking the back of his hand with her soft fingers. "I'd like to remember our time alone. Things will go differently tonight. You won't have to leave, um, unsatisfied," she offered, surprised by her own forwardness. "Should we go, now?"

Chet felt a shiver run down his spine as her touch affected him in so many different ways. "Um, well, not yet. See, Caroline, you know I love you, right?"

"Yes, and I love you, too," she said, continuing to run her fingers across the soft skin between his index finger and thumb. She loved looking into his blue eyes as they sparkled in the candlelight, and she really enjoyed making him anxious by her ministrations, especially after he had consumed a little alcohol. She smiled as his respiration rate increased.

"And, I love Corrie, too. You know that, right?"

"Of course, I do. She's just crazy about her Mizzer Phet," Caroline mocked. "Chet, what's gotten into you?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing." He continued to stall, blowing out his breath and inhaling deeply again as he reached into his jacket pocket, discreetly withdrawing the tiny black box and holding it in his lap out of her view.

Fear began to take hold of Caroline's fragile heart. "Chet… Chet, if there's something wrong, please just say it."

"Well," he began, feeling the heat rising around his collar. Rivulets of sweat began to slide down from his temples. "Um, well, see… It's just that I –"

Caroline felt her eyes beginning to fill with tears, somewhat fearful of what he was about to say.

When Chet looked into the face of the only woman he had ever truly loved, he saw her eyes reddening and becoming teary. He had rehearsed his proposal for days now, but every word seemed to evaporate as he looked at her in the dim light of the dancing candle flame. He felt his own eyes stinging with the anticipation, and swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. When he heard her sniffle, he nearly broke down himself. Deciding to forgo anything from memory, and choosing instead to bare his heart and soul to her, he began to speak softly.

"Caroline, I love you more than I've ever loved anyone in my life. When I'm not with you, I'm thinking about you. When I lay down at night, thoughts of you fill my dreams, and when I wake up, your name is the first word on my lips. You're in every breath I take, every beat of my heart. I can't imagine my life without you and Ladybug in it."

Caroline felt her hands begin to tremble as her tears flowed uninhibitedly down her face. She wanted to wipe them away, but she was too drawn to this man who held her heart in his hand, too mesmerized by the sincerity in his voice, and the love she saw in his eyes as he spoke from his heart. She watched as he reached out, grasping her left hand in his, his breathing continuing to come in quick gasps.

"I know I don't have… much to offer you and Corrie, materially, but I'll… give you everything I have… or ever will have. I'll never be rich, but what I have is all yours. You've captured… my heart and my soul, and I don't want to live another… moment without you by my side." Stealthily, he opened up the box with one hand, removing the ring and allowing the small box to drop to the floor. He clutched the ring tightly in his hand as his fingers began to tingle and his lips started feeling numb. Seeing her crying, he reached out and used the backs of his fingers to wipe the tears that were dripping down the side of her cheek, watching as she closed her eyes when he stroked her face with his shaky hand. He caressed her alabaster skin, relishing the feeling of her leaning her face into his touch as his heart thrashed around wildly inside his chest.

"Chet… I," she whispered, unable to complete her thought as his words continued to serenade her.

"The day you walked into Station 51, to… thank me for saving Corrie's life… That was the day you saved my life. At that moment, you gave my life purpose, meaning, and… gave me a reason to live. That was the day my life truly began." He reached up, curling a ringlet of her light brown hair behind her ear, staring longingly into her watery eyes. "Caroline… Baby… My love for you and Corrie grows stronger every day. It's the kind of love that's real, and lasting, and… And must be shared. When I look at you, I see the part of me that's been… missing since the day I was born. You've helped me grow as a person… To become a man… You make me complete, but only when we're together." He hesitated, seeing white spots flashing before his eyes as he dropped down on his right knee. His blue eyes never leaving hers, sniffling as his own tears began to flow. He held the diamond ring loosely along the tip of her ring finger on her left hand. "Caroline Marks, will… Will you make me the happiest man on earth? Will you… marry me?"

"Ack," she cried out, looking down at the sparkling jewel resting at the first knuckle of her finger. She looked back up into his face, seeing how red it was becoming, worried by the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders. Then, realizing that he was waiting for her to answer, she nearly shouted. "Oh, Chet, I… I love you… YES!"

"Yes?" He asked, sliding the ring down along her slender finger. "You… You said… Yes, right?" He asked, his own breath coming in raspy jagged inhalations.

"Uh-hu, yes," she said again, her own laughter and joy overwhelming her. She leaned forward just as Chet struggled to stand up. The combination of wine and rapid breathing threw Chet off balance, sending him careening on his backside.

"Ugh, oh god…," he gasped, pulling at his tie.

"Chet, I love you so much, and I… Chet? CHET?" She screamed, seeing how hard he was struggling to breathe. "HELP!" She called out, grateful when their waiter rushed over to the table.

"Miss? What's wrong?" He asked, kneeling down beside the fallen gasping man.

"I'm a doctor, may I be of assistance?" A gray-haired man with dark skin and a kind smile asked, assessing Chet before receiving an answer to his question. He could tell that the man was in distress and needed immediate attention.

"He… He's only had some wine to drink and… And he couldn't breathe and –"

"Get me a paper bag," the doctor ordered, cutting Caroline's explanation short. "Sir, why don't you lie down for me," he requested of Chet, leaning the panicky Irishman back until he was lying on his back on the stone floor. "That's it. Just try to relax. You're breathing too fast. It's called hyperventilating. Try to slow down your breathing for me, alright?" He looked back up at the crying young woman. "Does he have panic attacks often?" He asked, checking Chet's pulse and respiration rate.

"No, I mean. We were just talking and then he proposed and-"

The waiter returned quickly, thrusting a small paper sack into the waiting hands of the physician. The doctor placed it over Chet's gasping mouth and nose. "That's it… Just breathe a little slower," the older man instructed.

Chet's eyes widened in fear. He already felt as if he were suffocating and now a stranger was trying to kill him by placing a bag over his mouth and holding it there. He struggled against the dark hands that he thought were trying to smother him.

"Easy, man. Take it easy. You need less oxygen, not more. You just need to rebreathe your own air for a minute and you'll be fine. Just relax," the doctor urged, never releasing the pressure on Chet's mouth.

"Chet," Caroline wept, trying to calm down her fiancé. "I love you, Chet. Just do what the man says, okay?"

Chet nodded slightly, remembering seeing Roy and Johnny do the same thing a few times with hyperventilating patients. He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling tired, and more than a little ridiculous.

In a few minutes that seemed to Chet to be just short of an eternity, the gasping subsided and his breathing returned to normal.

"Ugh," he gasped, grateful when the doctor removed the bag from his face. "I'm… Damn," he gasped, continuing to slow down his breathing. "So-sorry, Baby," he stated, looking up at Caroline with tired eyes.

The physician and the waiter looked at each other and grinned. The doctor reached out his ebony hand, helping Chet into an upright position. "Well, after all that excitement, I hope she said yes," he laughed, slapping Chet on the back.

Chet grinned a lazy grin, inhaling and exhaling slowly. "Yes… She did say yes… Didn't you say yes?" He asked, looking over at the love of his life.

"I sure did," Caroline replied, holding up her left hand and wiggling her fingers. She leaned over, giving Chet a quick kiss on his red cheek.

"Be careful," the doctor instructed, standing up. "I don't know how much more excitement he can handle in one night," he snickered, returning to his table amid the grateful acknowledgements of the unnerved waiter.

The newly engaged couple were laughing uncontrollably, Caroline kneeling down beside Chet, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning her forehead against his. Chet remained in a seated position, not caring that the rest of the restaurant patrons were watching them, curiously. She had said yes to his proposal. She had agreed to marry him. He ran one hand around the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him as their lips met briefly, yet tenderly. His other hand stroked her bare left arm, roaming down past her wrist, and grasping her delicate hand in his. They both looked down at the place where their hands were joined together, their fingers intertwined, and sparkling in the candlelight was the diamond ring that symbolized the commitment they had just made to each other.

"Chester B. Kelly… I love you so much," she said, her eyes shimmering in the low light of the restaurant.

"And Caroline Marks, soon-to-be Mrs. Chester B. Kelly," he stated, proudly. "I love you more." He lightly kissed the tip of her nose. "NOW… It's time to go home."


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Thank you all for your continued support with this sage. There is a lot going on in this chapter, and I must warn you that it might be a little 'grittier' than previous ones. However, we are nearing the end of this one so there may be more warnings to come. Again, thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing your thoughts with me. I can't tell you how much your words mean to me, and how much they have helped me move this story along.

Chapter 16

Mike stared at the clock on his nightstand as he lay in bed. It was too early to call Marco, but he desperately wanted to talk to his friend. He had to convince the lineman to stop Alexia from attending his hearing. She was doing well with her recovery and the last thing he wanted to do was to have something like this cause a setback. He rolled onto his back and resumed his staring, only this time it was at the ceiling instead of a clock. He stretched his arms, bending his elbows and resting his head inside his laced fingers. Should he go to The Wellhouse and try to talk to her himself? That thought evaporated as quickly as it had formed. He remembered how determined she had sounded on the telephone, and how quickly she hung up on him without even saying goodbye. No amount of talking or pleading by him would change her mind. Yet, something inside him did yearn to see her again. He thought about their conversation and wondered why Bri seemed so intent on destroying him. He hadn't done anything to her to create such hatred. Then again, he hadn't done anything to the Fire Marshall, either. He was simply collateral damage in the Stanley/Hunley battle. Was he collateral damage in Bri's battle with someone else? If so, with whom? He glanced over at the clock again and saw that it was 7:00 am. Deciding to try to eat some breakfast before he made the call to Marco, he threw the covers off his legs and sat for a moment on the edge of the bed. He hadn't slept much the night before and his stiff achy body told him that this was going to be a long Saturday. He hoped that the conversation with Marco would go well, leaving him relaxed enough to take a nap this afternoon. He stood up and padded down the short hallway to his kitchen. Making breakfast would occupy his time and fill his empty belly until he knew his friend would be up. Then he would make the call.

E!

Johnny awoke with a start, his hair matted to his forehead from the sweat. Even though it had been over ten years, the sights and sounds were as real in his nightmare as they had been on that particular morning.

"Ugh," he groaned, running his hand down his face, scrubbing away the remnants of the violent dream. He lay motionless, staring at the softly fluttering curtains near his open window as the images slowly faded into the darkness. This was the third time he had relived the nightmare since seeing Lily again. He willed his breathing and his heart rate to return to normal as he considered his options. None of them were pleasant, but he knew that there was only one way to save her. It didn't matter what it might cost him to bring Lily home; he owed it to Iris for all she had done for him.

He stood up, pulled on an old pair of sweat pants, and walked over to his dresser. Kneeling down, he pulled open the bottom drawer and removed the navy blue photo album he had created years earlier. He carried it to his living room, dropping it down in his favorite chair while he started a pot of coffee percolating. He was still shivering from the nightmare, and needed to warm up both his physical body and his spirit.

As soon as the bubbling sound began and the faint aroma of freshly brewing coffee began to waft beneath his nose, he returned to his seat to reminiscence about more pleasant times. He leafed through the pictures he had taken while traveling with Iris and Lily. There were pictures of the mother and daughter duo posing in front of every state entrance sign that they had passed. That had been his way of chronicling their journey. As they neared their destination, he was amazed at the beauty he found in the landscape. The azaleas had been in full bloom at the time of their arrival, flowering amid a backdrop of white and pink Dogwood trees and Spanish moss swaying in the breeze. The flora of the area had been so breathtakingly beautiful that he used up all of his color film. Even now, the photographs depicted scenes almost as pretty as they had been in person.

Then he turned the page, and his heart nearly stopped. He hadn't looked at this particular album in a very long time, but the pictures he had taken near the end of their journey were just as horrific as the earlier pictures were mesmerizing. He leafed through them, his mind creating the sounds and the smells of the events depicted in the black and white photographs. The look on Lily's face in the last photograph on the page was one of abject horror.

The gurgling sound of the percolator made him lift up his face. He slammed the album shut, not wanting to relive the rest of the journey. Instead, he wanted to use a cup of coffee to fully wake up and clear the cobwebs from his brain. He needed to make a phone call in a few minutes, and he wanted to be clear-minded when he spoke to Iris. He needed to make her understand why he was about to do the unthinkable.

E!

Chet smiled sleepily as he felt his fiancée snuggling up against him, running the fingers of her left hand through his thick chest hair. "Mmmm, that's nice," he mumbled, his eyes remaining closed.

"I can't wait to wake up with you every morning," she said, circling her fingers around his right nipple.

"It is a fine way to wake up, isn't it?" He asked, opening one eye to peek down at her, paying close attention to her left hand. He needed to see the ring on her finger just to make sure it hadn't all been a dream. He groaned as her ministrations continued down across his belly.

"Baby, if you keep rubbing me like this, you're gonna wake up other parts of my body," he snickered, lightly kissing the top of her mussed up hair.

Caroline chuckled as her hand continued to dip a little lower. "I think I already have."

"Nah… Just gotta pee," he explained, hugging her tightly then releasing his grasp. "Hold that thought… I REALLY gotta go pee."

He walked into the bathroom, taking care of his most urgent personal need. He then stepped in front of the mirror to wash his hands. When he looked up, he laughed at the hickie Caroline had left near his collarbone the night before. "God, I love you, baby," he said to himself.

"I love you, too," Caroline snickered from the other side of the closed door. "Or, were you talking to someone else?"

He dried his hands then opened the door, grinning at his future bride. "Nope, I was talking to you. What are the guys gonna say about this?" He asked, craning his neck to the side, displaying her mark of affection.

"Oh, I think they'll just say you're a lucky man. Especially John, since from what you say, he never gets any affection," she laughed, wrapping her arms around Chet's waist.

"Ahaa, yea… I'm going to enjoy this," he said, nuzzling her neck, and leaving her wondering if he meant he was going to enjoy married life or harassing John Gage about the hickie. He lifted his face just enough to speak, not wanting to assault her with his morning breath. "Where did you hide my toothbrush?"

"It's in the top drawer on the right. I didn't want Corrie to ask me why I had two toothbrushes," Caroline commented with a laugh.

"Good plan. How 'bout I brush my teeth and we go for another round before we go pick up Ladybug?"

"Chet Kelly, your sexual appetite is insatiable," she kidded, turning away from him to reach for her own toothbrush.

"Are you saying no?"

"No, I'm brushing my teeth for round two," she joked, squeezing the blue toothpaste onto her toothbrush before passing the half spent tube over to Chet.

"YESSS," he hissed, running his brush beneath the stream of water before beginning his oral hygiene routine.

When the two had finished freshening up, Chet led her back into her bedroom. He pulled back the covers and crawled in, holding up the burgundy bedspread in invitation to Caroline. "Join me, my lady?" He asked, seductively.

"Uh-huh," she replied, sliding between the sheets and snuggling up to him again. She began running her hands through his chest hair again as their faces met. After a few chaste kisses, she parted her lips in invitation and he quickly darted his tongue inside. As the kiss continued to deepen, her hands roamed down across his lower belly. With a snicker, she pulled away from the kiss. "Do you have to pee again?"

"Not this time, baby," he laughed, returning his lips to hers and caressing her body with his hands. "Not this time."

E!

Mike sat around nursing his second cup of strong black coffee, watching the clock slowly tick off the minutes. Once it was finally 9:00 am, he picked up the telephone and called Mrs. Lopez' residence.

"Hola?" A child's voice answered. In the background, he could hear Mrs. Lopez scolding the little boy.

"Antonio, I've told you not to answer the telephone. Now, let me have it… Hello, Lopez residence."

Mike fought back his laughter, not wanting to offend Mrs. Lopez. "Hi, it's Mike Stoker. Sounds like the little guy has been practicing his Spanish."

"Si, but he needs to practice doing as I tell him," she laughed.

"Is Marco around?"

"No, he's staying at his apartment, now. Our lives seem to be returning to normal, at least for the most part. Do you have his number?"

"Yes, I do. Thank you," he said. He then pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling to ask the next question. "Um, how is Alexia doing?"

Maria Lopez smiled a broad smile just as her grandson decided to climb onto the couch and jump up and down. "Antonio Lopez, do NOT jump on the furniture. Sit on the floor and watch television," she scolded. "I'm sorry, Mike. He's been almost uncontrollable since he was reunited with his mother. And, to answer your question, she is really doing well. I'm hoping she can come home in a few days. She'll still need… Oh, what do they call it? Um… After care services. It's counseling and group therapy, but she can attend that while she lives here. So, she's doing great. I don't know if I ever truly thanked you for all you did for her. But from the bottom of my heart, I want to thank you for bringing my daughter back to me… To all of us," she said, watching her grandson as he played with his toys in front of the television set.

"It was my pleasure," Mike stated, feeling a warm tingle washing over his body. "I'm glad things are going so well."

"She told us about what's happening to you, Mike. I'm terribly sorry. I want you to know that Marco and I will be there to support you. We'll be character witnesses, or whatever you may need. I've been praying hard for you every day. God's will will be done, Mike. He'll see you through this, and everything will work out the way it should. You'll see," Maria exclaimed, feeling the backs of her eyes beginning to sting.

"I wish I had your faith, but I really don't. I just know that I don't want Alexia to be subjected to the harassment she'll be put through if she testifies. I won't let her do it," he stated firmly, pressing his lips into a thin line.

"Well… Whatever is best, Mike. I pray that whatever is best will be what happens. You are like another son to me, and I pray for all my children every day. I've added you to that list. I just want you to know."

Mike closed his eyes, feeling a lump forming in the back of his throat. "Th-ahem… Thank you. I really appreciate that. It means a lot to me. I'll, ah… I'll give Marco a call. You take care, Mrs. Lopez."

"Thank you. Same to you, Mike. Goodbye," she said hanging up the phone. She hated the defeated tone in Mike's voice and immediately she sat down in her chair behind Antonio. She closed her eyes and began her daily prayer routine, with special emphasis on Lexi and Mike.

E!

Marco was washing his breakfast dishes when his telephone began to ring. Quickly, he dried his hands and stepped over to the phone hanging on the wall just outside of his small kitchen.

"Hello?" He spoke softly, assuming the early morning caller was his mother.

"Hey, man. It's, Mike. Um, can I come over sometime today? I need to talk to you about something."

Marco grimaced. While Mike had always been a man of few words, he usually exchanged pleasantries before jumping right into the conversation. Something was definitely wrong with his engineer, and Marco presumed that it was related to the investigation and upcoming hearing. "Of course. I'm going to be here all day so just come on over whenever you feel like it."

"Thanks, Marco. I'll see you around lunch. Tacos?"

"Sure, sounds good. I'll see you then," Marco said, hanging up and staring at the phone. Mike Stoker was worried, which made Marco worry. As much as he hated the idea of his sister testifying at the hearing, he was beginning to think it might be the only way to prove Mike's innocence.

E!

Johnny stepped out of his shower, shaking his shaggy dark hair out of his face as he toweled himself off. After completing his morning routine, he pulled on a pair of worn and faded jeans. He searched his closet, picking out a white button down shirt. He left the top few buttons open, exposing his tanned chest. He then tucked his shirt tail into his pants, pulled on his boots, and threaded his wide leather belt through the belt loops, hooking it in place behind the large buckle. Feeling confident, he walked over to his telephone and dialed the number. A soft feminine voice answered on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me. I wasn't sure if you'd be at home today or not. Uh, can I come over later on? I really need to talk to you about Lily," Johnny explained, nervously. He hoped that she would understand what he wanted to do, but he also knew that she wouldn't be very happy about it.

"Thorn… Um, is everything okay?" Iris asked, her voice shaky.

"Oh, yea, yea… Nothin's wrong. I just wanted to talk about what we need to do. I have a plan," he stated, not feeling as confident as he had earlier.

"Okay, how about I fix your favorite dinner and then we can talk?"

"Oh, man. It's been a long time since I enjoyed your cookin', but I know how tired you'll be after you close the shop. Do you still open it for a few hours on Saturdays?

"Normally, yes, but Caroline had a big date planned with Chet, and we haven't been very busy this week. I decided to take the day off."

"Oh, yea," he stated with a grin. "She might have some news for you on Monday."

"Ahhhh," Iris said knowingly. "I wondered when those two were going to start making plans. He seems like a great guy, and he's so good to Corrie. I hope they'll be happy together," she sighed, silently hoping that Caroline would allow her to create the floral arrangements for the wedding. It was something she had hoped to do for her own daughter one day, but now that dream seemed to be nothing more than wishful thinking.

"Okay, well… What's a good time?" He asked, feeling his mouth watering at the thought of her impressive culinary skills.

"Seven?"

"I'll be there."

E!

A couple of hours later, Mike walked up to Marco's apartment, a large brown bag of tacos in his hand. With his heart beating wildly in his chest, he knocked.

Marco quickly opened the door, welcoming his friend into his home. "Come on in, Mike."

"Thanks, I got a bag full of food, so I hope you're hungry," he joked, but the gesture failed to lift the shadow that seemed to darken his face.

"Yes, I am. I've got beer, soda, water…"

"Um, a soda is fine for me," Mike replied, dropping the bag of tacos on the kitchen table while he waited for Marco to return with the cold sodas from the refrigerator.

Marco returned with the drinks, placing one in front of his guest as they both took a seat. "So," he began, reaching inside the bag, "what's on your mind?"

Mike's blue eyes looked piercingly across the table. "Your sister."

"Oh?" Marco said with a hint of a smile. He had been wondering if Mike felt something for Lexi, but had assumed that the years she had spent as a prostitute might be a barrier too large for the engineer to overcome. Now, he wasn't so sure.

"She called me last night." Mike opened up the wrapper on his taco and took a bite. Working around Johnny for so long, and learning to eat in a hurry had made him less concerned about speaking with food in his mouth. "She wants to… Testify for me on… Thursday," he stated, chewing his food as he spoke.

Marco felt his countenance fall rapidly. "And that's a problem because you don't want the department to know you spent some time with her?"

Mike heard the unspoken accusation of shame in Marco's voice. He understood why his friend would say that; Marco had also felt some shame related to his sister's lifestyle earlier in their search for her. Now that Alexia was getting out of the business, and Marco understood more about her entrapment in the sex trade, he no longer felt as much embarrassment. He had talked to Mike about his feelings on several occasions. However, Mike knew he needed to correct Marco's erroneous assumption.

"No, Marco," he said, dropping his taco down and steepling his hands together. "That's not it at all. I'm not embarrassed by her, if that's what you're thinking. I just don't want to put her through the whole thing."

"I'm sorry, Mike. That didn't come out right," Marco apologized, realizing that he had upset his friend.

"You know that the Fire Marshall will bring up her past to try to discredit her. I just don't want her to have to go through that."

Marco stared at the table for a moment. "Have you talked to an attorney?" He asked, changing the subject from his sister back to Mike.

"No… But, it looks like I'm going to have to hire one. I really don't have the money, but… Hell, if I lose my job then what little money I've got in my savings account won't last long. I might as well spend it on a lawyer."

Marco's eyes widened and a smile made its way to his face. "Why don't you talk to that same guy that Roy and John talked to? Remember, when they got accused of stealing that cardiac patient's money? I can't remember the attorney's name, but he's a former firefighter. I bet he'd give you a good rate."

For the first time in several days, Mike smiled. "That's not a bad idea." He picked up his taco, taking a large bite, suddenly feeling his appetite returning. "Mind if… I use your phone?" He asked, swallowing his food and reaching for his soda.

"No problem, but why don't we finish lunch first?" Marco said, feeling relief that perhaps the answer to Mike's problem was a former firefighter for an attorney, not a former prostitute as a witness.

E!

Chet glanced over at his fiancée as they drove across town to pick up Corrie from the Desotos' home. "How are we gonna tell her?"

"Well, it's lunch time. Why don't we pick up some burgers and take her for a little picnic?" Caroline suggested, feeling butterflies inside her stomach as Chet turned into the Desotos' driveway.

"That sounds like a great idea," he said, reaching out to grasp her left hand. He felt a warm sensation cover him as his fingers brushed across the diamond ring. He smiled to himself, thrilled beyond belief that this wonderful woman would soon be his wife. He parked the van then gave her hand a quick squeeze. "Ready?"

"Yes," she said, beaming at him.

Inside the residence, Roy was helping Joanne chop vegetables for their lunch when he heard a knock at the door. A tiny child's voice shouted from the living room. "Is that my Mommy and Mizzer Phet?"

Roy glanced at his watch and smiled a knowing smile at Joanne. "I bet it is," he called out before softening his voice. "And I hope she said yes," he said, leaving his half diced tomatoes and walking to the front door. He opened it and saw his two friends, both with smiles lighting up their faces. "Hi, come on it."

Chet leaned in a little closer to Roy, using a stage whisper so Corrie wouldn't overhear him. "She said YES!"

"Congratulations," Roy said, shaking Chet's hand. "Welcome to the 51 family," he offered Caroline, kissing her gently on the cheek. "Come on, the girls are watching cartoons."

"How was she?" Caroline asked, concerned about how Corrie had behaved.

"She was perfect," Joanne offered, walking into the room, unable to keep her eyes from immediately dropping to Caroline's left hand. "Ohhhh, congratulations," she cried out, softly. "I'm so happy for you two," she said, hugging Caroline. "Corrie is going to be so happy."

"I sure hope so," Chet stated, nervously.

Joanne knew in her heart that the little girl had been wishing for a father. She recalled the conversation she had overheard between Antonio and Corrie weeks earlier. Her heart leaped with joy at the thought of BOTH children getting the parents they had wished for.

"MOMMY!" Corrie called out, running into her mother's waiting arms.

"Hey there, sweetheart. Were you a good girl?" Caroline asked, kissing her daughter on her rosy cheek.

"Uh-huh," the child answered, wrapping her arms around her mother's neck.

"Well, tell Jo-Jo and Mr. Roy 'thank you' for letting you stay, and go tell Jennifer that you had a good time," she said, releasing her little girl. "Chet and I are taking you on a picnic. We have something important to tell you, okay?"

"Okay," she said, bounding back into the living room to do as her mother had told her.

Caroline turned to Joanne. "I really do appreciate you keeping her for us."

"Anytime," Joanne said, grinning. "She's a real joy to have around here."

"I'm ready to go," the toddler responded, returning to the living room with her bag, excited by the prospect of a picnic with her mother and her favorite fireman.

Just as the trio turned towards the door, the DeSotos' telephone began to ring.

"I'll get it," Roy said turning back towards the kitchen. "Congratulations again," he said, waving to the group as they walked out the door followed by Joanne.

"Hello?" Roy said, pulling the receiver from the wall phone in the kitchen as he resumed his chopping of the tomatoes.

"Hey, Roy. It's Mike. You got a minute?"

"Sure, what's up?" Roy asked, worried that the call was related to the upcoming hearing.

"Well, I'm getting ready for next week, and… Marco reminded me about the attorney that you and Johnny talked to when you were accused of stealing that money awhile back. I think he used to work for the department or something?"

"Yes, his name's Barney Olsen and he's practicing in Beverly Hills."

Mike released a small whistle. "Damn, I can't afford him then," Mike said, his voice rapidly deflating.

"Well, he offered to represent us for free. I don't know if he'd be willing to do some pro bono work for you since this is a personnel hearing with the department, but it's worth a shot."

"Yea… Maybe… What was his name again?" Mike asked, realizing that he really had nothing to lose by making an appointment.

"Olsen… Barney Olsen, super nice guy. I think you'll like him. I'm sorry it's come to this, Mike. I'll do anything you need for me to do to help you out; we all will. I hope you know that," Roy offered, having some idea of what Mike was going through, and remembering how supportive the guys from Station 51 had been during that stressful time when he and Johnny were facing possible jail time and the end of their careers.

"Thanks, man. You already have. I'll see you around."

E!

"Swing me, Mizzer Phet!" Corrie called out gleefully as she ran across the sprawling grass of the park, heading towards the swing set beyond the picnic tables.

"No, sweetheart. We need to eat our lunch before it gets cold," Caroline commented, holding the sack of burgers in one hand and Chet's larger hand in the other.

Chet smiled at the little girl he already thought of as his daughter. He held tightly to the cup holder with the three cups of soda in it. He certainly didn't want to ruin the moment by spilling their drinks.

"O-kaaay," the little girl pouted, walking slowly to the picnic table with her head hanging low.

Caroline and Chet exchanged glances, both hoping their news would put a smile back on Corrie's round face. They sat down and Chet began to pass out the food while Caroline removed napkins, placing one in her own lap and the other in Corrie's.

"Sweetheart," Caroline began, "look at the ring Mr. Chet bought me. Isn't it beautiful?"

"Pretty," the little girl said with a smile. She loved shiny, sparkly things.

Caroline looked up at Chet, silently questioning if she was handling the situation right. The look in his eyes gave her the encouragement to continue. "Do you know what it means?"

"Nu-uh," the child admitted, unsure what her mother was asking.

"Well, when a lady receives a diamond ring from her boyfriend, it means that they're going to get married."

Corrie's brown eyes turned to Chet and then back to her mother. "What's married?"

"Um, when a man and a woman love each other then they want to live together," she commented, trying to keep her explanation simple. "You know, like Jo-Jo and Mr. Roy. They're married."

Corrie's eyes stared down at the table as her four year-old brain began to put all the pieces together.

"Is it okay with you if I marry your Mommy, and then we all live together?" Chet asked, reaching inside his pocket for the second item he had purchased at the jewelry store.

"Mr. Roy is Jenny's daddy and Jo-Jo is Jenny's mommy," the little girl said, a twinkle brightening her eyes as understanding dawned on her cherubic face.

"That's right," Chet stated, pulling out the small stretch bracelet he had bought as a surprise for Corrie.

A giant grin stretched across Corrie's face. She climbed off of the bench seat of the picnic table, her excitement bubbling over. "Then… Mizzer Phet will be MY daddy," she stated, pumping her small fists into the air as she bounced in place.

Caroline's vision began to blur with tears as she thought of how much Chet's presence had changed her life, and now he was going to change the life of her little girl for the second time in less than two years. "Sweetheart, your real daddy is in heaven, remember?"

"Uh-huh," the child mumbled, her countenance falling fast.

"That means that Mr. Chet will be your step-daddy. It's kind of like having two daddys – one in heaven and one here," she explained.

"Ahem," Chet cleared his throat, feeling the lump that had been growing, suddenly threatening his breathing. "Will you let me be your daddy for here?" He asked in nearly a whisper, finding it hard to push his words past the lump.

"YEA!" Corrie cheered. "I got a daddy!" She suddenly shouted, running around the side of the table and planting herself in Chet's ribs, in a hug.

"Ahaa…," Chet chuckled in relief, wrapping his arms around the little girl and pulling her into his lap. "Well, we have to get married first, but I do have a special surprise for you. See," he said, holding up the small stretch bracelet with large red beads decorated with tiny black dots, spaced by smaller black beads. "It's a bracelet of ladybugs, and I bought it just for you. You know why?"

The little girl accepted the proffered bracelet, pulling in onto her wrist. When she didn't answer his question, he continued.

"Because you're my ladybug, Ladybug," he commented, kissing the toddler on the top of her head.

"Look, Mommy. Mizzer Phet's gonna marry me so he can be my daddy," she stated, proudly displaying the red and black bracelet on her wrist.

Chet chuckled, looking up at his fiancée with a sheepish face. Caroline laughed loudly, using the napkin to dry her damp cheeks. The scene she had just witnessed had given her an idea for the upcoming nuptials. "That's right, baby girl. We're all getting married."

E!

The orange rays of the setting sun were stretching out from the horizon as Johnny drove down the Pacific Coast Highway towards his destination. He was not looking forward to his conversation with Iris, but it had to be done. She had to know what to expect in the coming weeks. He slipped his aviator sunglasses onto his handsome face, enjoying the solitude of the ride. He usually drove his Rover with the windows rolled down, loving the freedom he felt as the wind whipped his hair in various directions. Today was no different.

As he drove, his mind wandered back to that long ago journey, and his heart ached to return to the innocence of his youth. But, experience had aged him more than the passing of time. He worked hard to keep up his façade of being a jovial carefree young man, but some days he felt like an old man. Today was one of those days. When he approached the familiar residential area, he made the turn into the neighborhood. The houses hadn't changed all that much. He noted a new fenced-in front yard of one house, and a few changes in exterior paint and shutters, but otherwise, things really hadn't changed all that much since his last visit.

He pulled up next to the curb of Iris' house and got out of his vehicle. As he walked up the pristine walkway, he smiled at the beautiful plants she had used to decorate the exterior of the home. Iris really had a green thumb. He removed his sunglasses, pocketing them in his shirt and nodding politely at the nosy elderly neighbor who was staring at him from behind her rose bushes. "Good evenin', ma'am."

"Humph," the old lady groused, turning and walking back towards her front door.

"Thorn?" Iris called out as she opened the door of her home to the young man. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you," she said, giving him a welcoming hug as he crossed the threshold of the house he hadn't been in for a few years.

"It's good to be back here," he said, looking around and inhaling the aroma of her cooking. He noticed a couple of pictures he had printed and framed for her hanging on the walls. His heart broke at the sight of the one Iris had always referred to as her favorite. It was a black and white photograph of her and Lily standing on the steps of a small brick church. Both women were looking into the distance, their heads turning slightly to their right. Iris was standing a little behind Lily on a higher step of the curving staircase that led to the sanctuary. He had snapped the picture, unsure of how it would turn out, but all three had loved it when he had had the film developed. It had been several months later before he had gotten the photograph enlarged and framed. He had given it to her as a birthday gift that October, having to work several odd jobs to earn enough money for both the enlargement and the ornate frame. He remembered how her face had lit up when she had opened it.

Now, he was looking at an older version of the woman in the picture, one with worry lines and dark shadows crossing her face. He smiled wistfully as he followed her into the kitchen, deeply breathing in the scent of the dinner she had prepared for him. "I haven't tasted your cooking in a long time."

"Too long," she said, opening the cabinet door to remove two dishes. "You're too thin," she said, grinning at him as she handed him a plate. "I thought I'd try to put a little more meat on your bones while we talked."

"You sound like Morton," he snickered, hoping that their pending conversation would go well.

"Who's Morton?"

He gave Iris his famous lopsided grin, as he began filling his plate with her four cheese lasagna and salad. "It's a long story. I'll tell you while we're eating," he said, turning and heading for the table. "Then, we need to talk about Lily."

E!

Hours after nightfall, Bri walked past the bank on the corner, noting that the large round clock near the entrance read 2:35 am. She clutched her beige purse closely to her side, knowing that everything she owned was inside the macramé bag and in her backpack. She walked slowly down the street, exhausted and needing sleep. However, she had to complete one more task before she found an empty park bench on which to wait for sunrise. Sleeping at night could be fatal for a person in her situation. During previous episodes of homelessness, she had learned to get what little sleep she could during the daylight hours, when crime rates were lower. Her survival depended on her nightly activities and paying close attention to her surroundings.

She stepped inside the telephone booth on the corner, closing the door tightly behind her. She dug around inside her purse for a couple of dimes. It took her a few moments to get everything set up, but she had to make sure she did this right. As soon as she was positioned with her back to the street, she dropped a dime into the coin slot and dialed the number. It took several rings before a very groggy voice answered the call.

"H-hello?"

"Lennie," she sniffed. "Lennie, please come and get me. I – I need some help, please?" She cried, knowing her request would be denied.

"What do you want at this hour?" The sleepy man groused.

"I… I'm hungry, and… I need a place to sleep for a little while. Please, Lennie?" She begged, sniffling. "I'll… I'll make it worth your while."

"Worth my while, huh? Have you gotten what I asked for, yet? That's more important to me than sex with a whore," Hunley chuckled.

"Not yet. I've been trying though, honest, I have," she continued. "I haven't been able to catch Mike Stoker at home. I've been calling the number you gave me, but he isn't answering," she lied.

"What about that friend of yours, that other whore, um, Alex… Is that her name?" The frustrated man asked.

"It's Alexandra and… She isn't speaking to me. But, don't worry. I'm gonna be at that hearing to make sure Mike Stoker goes down, just like you asked me to do. I just… Lennie, I haven't had anything to eat since yesterday. The money you gave me is gone, and-"

"Gone? What the hell've you been eating, filet mignon? I gave you $20 damn dollars. What've you done with it?"

Bri felt her voice beginning to crack as her heart raced inside her chest. "I… I went to a truck stop to take a shower last night… And somebody stole most of it," she lied. She still had over half of the money left, but she had made a couple of purchases that he didn't know about, and she wasn't planning on telling him.

"Humph," Hunley grunted. "You get Mike's voice on tape for me, and I'll give you a little extra money to live on until the hearing. But you are NOT getting the rest of the money I promised you until you testify against him. I want him gone from the department, you understand?" He asked, nearly shouting into the phone as he ran his hand through his thinning hair. He was not at his best when he was awakened in the middle of the night.

"Yes… I understand. You want me to say that he attacked me and set my apartment on fire. I know, and I'll do it, Lennie. I promise. I told you I'd make it up to you for, um, for not doing what you asked me to do before," she said, setting her snare.

"I didn't ask you, Bri… I ORDERED you to go to that clinic. I even gave you the money. You chose to disobey me, and you and your baby paid the price. Now-"

"OUR baby, Lennie. It was OUR baby you killed when you beat me up," she corrected, forcing back the rage and grief she was feeling. "And Ricardo nearly killed me when he set my apartment on fire – on your orders," she spat out.

"YOUR baby. I didn't want nothing to do with it, and I told you to get rid of it. Hell, it probably wasn't even mine. It's not like I was the only one you were… Anyway, you told me I didn't need to use protection, and I believed you. I may have been an idiot back then, but not now. I learned my lesson. Now, you do what I'm telling you to do this time, and I'll give you that $250 dollars I promised. BUT, not until AFTER the hearing. You got that?"

"Yes, sir," she said, a diabolical smile crossing her face.

Hunley continued with his plan. "I want Stoker to go down. He's Stanley's right-hand man. If he goes down in flames, then so will Stanley, that miserable prick," he grumbled, thinking of the man he blamed for ending his relationship with Becky.

"Can I at least come by for a shower before the hearing? I don't want to look dirty in front of all those fire department big shots."

It took several long moments before he answered. He really didn't want her to show up looking like a street urchin. "Yea, I'll come and get you on Wednesday at 6:00 pm at the usual place. You can take a shower and… and sleep here. I want you to appear well-rested before the brass. I don't want them to know that you're still a hooker, understand? I want them to think that you've gotten your life in order," he stated.

"I will. Can I buy some decent clothes? You can take the money out of the $250 you're going to give me," she requested, knowing she needed clean clothing for the hearing.

"Shit," Hunley mumbled to himself. "What size do you wear? I'll pick you up something at Goodwill."

Bri rolled her eyes. She wanted to have something new to wear next week. Everything she had worn for the last few years had been second-hand garments that others had tossed aside. She really wanted to feel something nice on her skin, something that no one else had ever worn before. Her eyes began to water as she thought about how much better off she had been at The Wellhouse. She wished she could go back, but she knew she couldn't. She had to do this. It was the only way to make things better for everyone involved.

"Um, I think a size 4 should work," she said, continuing to sniffle. "And I wear a size 6 shoe."

"Alright, I'll get you a dress and some sandals or something," he huffed. "Now, I've got to go. People with REAL jobs need to sleep at night. Don't call me again unless you have something for me, got it?"

"Ye-yes, sir," she said, trying to hide her smile. "Thank you. I'll see you Wednesday, and I'll try to have something recorded by then. Goodbye, Lennie," she said, hanging up the phone. She looked down at the black box she had been holding next to the telephone, clicking off the Dictaphone. "And I've got something for you at the hearing, Leonard Hunley… And something for your boss, too," she whispered to herself wickedly. "I'm gonna nail your balls to the wall, you dirty son of a bitch!"


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Chet bounded down the stairs of his apartment complex with the strap of his duffle bag draped across his chest. He knocked on Caroline's front door, unable to head to work without a quick good-bye kiss. He waited anxiously at her threshold, hearing her voice calling out to Corrie as she walked closer to the front door.

"Turn the volume down, sweetie. The cartoons are too loud," Caroline called over her shoulder as she opened the door. When she saw Chet standing in front of her, her eyes brightened. "Good morning," she whispered, stepping outside for a quick hug and kiss.

"Mmm," Chet moaned, after releasing his fiancée from their morning greeting. "Didn't want her to know it was me, huh?"

"Nope," Caroline announced with a radiant smile. "If she knows it's you, then you'll never make it to work on time."

"So, I guess she's accepting of me being her, um… 'Here Daddy'?"

Caroline couldn't stifle the giggle that bubbled up from her core. "Oh, yea. But it sounds like she's calling a dog named Daddy," she snickered. "You know… Heeere, daddy… Good boy," she laughed, patting the curly hair on top of his head.

Chet rolled his eyes, laughing good-naturedly as he pulled her into another hug, growling playfully into her ear. "Grrrr… Just don't ever tell Johnny that, 'kay? I'll never hear the end of it."

"I won't," she agreed, kissing him once more on the cheek. "Have a safe shift, Chet. I love you."

"I love you, too," he responded, taking a step away from her. He dipped his head slightly, in a silent good-bye before giving her a flirty wink and turning around to head for the parking lot. He knew he was going to be the last one to arrive at the station, but he preferred to make the big announcement during roll call, rather than telling the story to each man as he arrived. For the first time in his career, he was deliberately earning latrine duty and he couldn't have been happier.

He climbed inside his van, dropping his bag into the passenger's seat. As he backed out of the parking space, he felt his countenance fall because one man wasn't going to be present for roll call. He exhaled as he shifted his van into drive, vowing to give Mike a telephone call before morning chores started. He wanted his engineer to know that even though he wasn't able to be on shift with the rest of the crew today, he was still a vital part of their team – a brother in good times and in bad.

E!

Mike Stoker thumbed through the yellow pages of the Greater Los Angeles Area telephone book. He was looking for the name Barney Olsen, curious about the address of the Beverly Hills attorney's office.

"Barnard Q. Olsen," he mumbled to himself as his index finger slid past the quarter page advertisement. "Ninety-two thirty-five Wilshire Boulevard." He jotted down the address along with the telephone number then closed the large book. Staring at the notes he had taken, he began to think about Alexia Lopez and the role she was trying to play at the upcoming hearing. He knew he needed to talk to her, but after his conversation with Marco, he preferred to do it in person. Convincing her to change her mind wasn't going to be easy. He stood up from his place at his kitchen table, and headed for the coffee pot. He was supposed to be on shift today, and he wondered who was replacing him. More than anything, he wanted to be back with his men, his brothers, but Assistant Chief Leonard Hunley stood in his way.

He poured himself a cup of coffee, raising it to his lips to blow a cooling breath across the steaming liquid. He felt the heat from the coffee radiating back to his face, matching the molten anger that was beginning to boil deep inside his chest. The burning rage stemmed from the hell that Assistant Chief Hunley was putting him through now, and even more so for what he would put Alexia through at the hearing. He felt a certain protectiveness for the young woman, something he wasn't accustomed to. He opened up the telephone book, scanning through the pages in search of the telephone number to The Wellhouse. After several unsuccessful searches in various sections, he closed the book, pushing it away from him in frustration. He would have to call Marco at the station later to get a contact number for Alexia. He hoped he would be able to arrange a visit with her this afternoon. Somehow, he had to convince her that her testimony wasn't going to be necessary – something he hoped Barney Olsen would agree with, as well.

E!

Hank stuck his head in the open kitchen doorway. "Roll call in five," he announced, seeing only four faces looking back at him. A quick assessment told him who needed to be assigned latrine duty. He turned around, heading for his office to retrieve his notes, and shook his head with a knowing smile at what he saw through the open front bay door. Chet's VW van was sitting in the street in front of the station with the left blinker flashing. Morning traffic was unusually heavy, forcing the lineman to wait for a clearing before crossing the oncoming lanes. As he saw his wayward crew member make the left turn, Hank stepped into his office, pulling his clipboard and his coffee cup from the top of the file cabinet. He slowly meandered back out into the bay, waiting for an opportunity to chastise the last man to arrive for shift.

Hank snickered to himself as he saw how quickly his junior lineman jumped out of his van, and rushed across the parking lot. "Cutting it close, Kelly. Hustle up," he said, pushing open the kitchen door.

"On it, Cap," Chet called back, hurrying into the locker room for a quick change.

As soon as Chet emerged, tucking his light blue shirt tail into his navy blue uniform pants, he saw the rest of the crew already lined up, and their captain's eyes glaring at him.

"Mornin'…," he stated, forcing a smile. "Sorry, Cap." Chet quickly found his place in the line-up beside Marco. He leaned in slightly, unable to wait to share his news with his best friend. "Psst… She said yes," he whispered, excited by the large smile that spread beneath Marco's thick mustache, and the friendly congratulatory nudge into Chet's ribcage.

"Come again," Hank stated, having heard the sounds of whispering among his crew who should have been giving him their undivided attention. "Did you say something, Kelly?" He asked, arching an eyebrow in the direction of the grinning lineman.

"Um, well… I was gonna wait until you finished, but since I'm already in trouble, I guess I might as well make my announcement."

"Oh, for cryin' out loud, Chet. What've you done, now?" Johnny questioned, annoyed by the unusual behavior of his nemesis.

"She said yes," he stated, grinning goofily.

"What was the question?" Johnny asked, his own personal issues causing him to forget the hints Chet had been throwing out on their last shift.

Chet leaned forward slightly so as to see down the line up, to the place where Johnny was standing. "Whatcha think, Gage? She agreed to marry me!" Chet leaned back into place in the line-up. The astonished look on Johnny's face made Chet smile smugly.

"Oh," Hank stated, his demeanor softening. "Well, congratulations, Pal."

"Thanks, Cap. I," the embarrassed lineman chuckled, knowing he might as well tell the story about the proposal. "Ahaa, you won't believe what happened at Niccoli's. I got so worked up about poppin' the question that I had a panic attack while I was tryin' to propose."

"You what?" Paul, the replacement engineer asked.

"I had a panic attack and hyperventilated. Then this black doctor came over, and put a bag over my face. I mean, ahaa… I thought the guy was tryin' to smother me or somethin', and -"

"A BLACK doctor?" Johnny asked, not liking the way it sounded to his ears. "Does that mean I'm the RED paramedic?"

"Don't start that again, Junior," Roy chided through gritted teeth. Over the years, Chet and Johnny had had their skirmishes related to race. He thought Johnny had reacted too sensitively when Chet brought up the issue of Johnny's American Indian heritage, and more recently, the two men got into a disagreement related to the MISSING poster that had been left at the station. Johnny had agreed with Marco, insisting that missing girls with blonde hair received more publicity than missing minority girls. Roy thought Johnny had over-reacted both then, and now. He didn't want Johnny to ruin Chet's big moment.

Chet couldn't believe his ears as he listened to Johnny emphasizing the obvious racial references. "Yea, a black doctor. You got a problem with that, Johnny?" Chet questioned, feeling heckled.

Johnny splayed his hand on his chest. "I don't have a problem with it, but why did you call him a BLACK doctor? Why not just a doctor?"

"Ah, I dunno," Chet responded.

"Prob'ly 'cause you thought he was tryin' to kill ya," Johnny muttered, disgusted by what he perceived to be thinly veiled prejudice.

"That's ENOUGH!" Hank ordered, furious by the way his two youngest men were sparring during roll call. "Both of you, in my office, NOW!" He turned to the rest of the crew. "Marco has the kitchen, Paul has dorms, and Roy has the bay. Get to it while I go play referee instead of fire captain," he grunted, storming off angrily behind the two men who were already on their way to his office.

Chet plopped down in the chair beside Hank's desk. Johnny propped one hand on his hip and the other on the filing cabinet, his back to Chet. The fuming paramedic ran a finger beneath his nose, a nervous habit he had had since adolescence. Hank walked in, slamming the door behind him, jarring the frazzled nerves of the two men already in the office.

"Somebody wanna tell me what's going on between you two?" Hank glared back and forth between both men, neither of them looking back at him.

After a few moments, Chet broke the uncomfortable silence. "I dunno, Cap. I was just tellin' my story, and Johnny went nuts."

"I went nuts?" Johnny asked, spinning around with his middle finger pointed at his own chest. "I went nuts? Humph, don't you mean the RED paramedic went nuts?"

"Semi," Chet corrected, making an angry reference to Johnny's parentage.

"Semi nuts, or semi red?" Johnny asked with syrupy sarcasm dripping from his lips.

"SEMI red - ALL nuts!" Chet argued, standing up to face the taller man.

"Both of you sit down and SHUT UP!" Hank ordered, his breathing coming in pants as he waited for his men to comply. "Now, I don't know what the hell's wrong with the two of you, but there's no way I'm going to allow either of you to work with these attitudes."

"I don't have an attitude," Chet shot back. "He drew first blood with his black comment."

Johnny narrowed his eyes at Chet. "Oh yea? Well, I believe you were the one who referred to the doctor as being black."

"He was, but so what? I was just describing him," argued the angry Irishman.

Hank pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the early pangs of a throbbing headache coming on.

"Well, ya don't hear me and Roy callin' in a patient's vitals and sayin' she's a black female, or he's a white male. We just say what's goin' on with 'em. 'Cause to us, their skin color doesn't matter," Johnny spat out.

"Hold it down," Hank asked, bouncing his hand with his palm facing downward. "Johnny what's wrong with what he said?"

"He called the man a BLACK doctor instead of just a doctor!" Johnny was nearly shouting, in spite of his captain's earlier warning.

"And that's a problem because-." Hank was only beginning to see Johnny's point when another outburst from the junior medic interrupted him.

Johnny, no longer able to restrain his comments, continued. "Well, it's a problem 'cause…. I guess, he calls Marco the tan lineman, and Roy the white paramedic, and you the-"

"CAPTAIN, John. He calls me the captain. Maybe you should remember that, alright?"

"Yessir, but-"

As they often did, the tones dropped at the most inopportune time, calling out the squad to a dog bite.

Hank saw the sense of urgency in Johnny's eyes, and quickly stepped between his medic and the office door. "Are you okay to take the run?" Hank didn't want to call the squad in as unavailable and delay treatment to the victim, unless it was absolutely necessary.

"I'm fine, Cap," Johnny snorted. As soon as his captain stepped to the side, the anxious young man headed out the door.

Hank nodded to Chet, pointing to the chair beside his desk. "Wait here," he said, following Johnny out the door of the office, hurrying to acknowledge the call.

"KMG-365," the captain commented into the microphone, tearing off the address slip and passing it to Roy as he walked back to his office. He heard the wail of the siren as the squad made the right turn onto 223rd Street. He hung his head, dreading facing Chet and the rest of their conversation.

Chet looked up when he heard his captain opening the door of the office. Quickly, he cast his eyes back down at the floor, fearing the reprimand he assumed was coming.

"Alright, he's gone. Now, how about telling me what's really going on between you two?"

Chet's blue eyes widened. "I dunno, Cap. Honest, I don't. I was just tellin' you fellas about hyperventilating, and he jumped down my throat," Chet stated, feeling wronged. "I mean, I know I made a few snide remarks about his heritage a couple o' years ago, but this," he said, waving his hand toward the apparatus bay where roll call had occurred, "came out o' nowhere."

"I wouldn't say it came out of nowhere, Chet," Hank stated, still standing in front of his man. "I seem to recall another roll call not so long ago when you and Roy chose sides against Marco and Johnny."

"Oh, yea… The missing girl," Chet commented with a hint of embarrassment. "I forgot about that."

Hank sighed. "But, everything was fine between the two of you until just a few minutes ago?"

"Yea… Far as I know."

Hank ran his hand through his dark hair. "I really think you need to be more careful about using race to describe people. The LA County Fire Department is becoming more and more diverse, and so are the citizens we protect. The last thing we want to do is offend someone by our comments." Hank waited for his lineman to give him some sort of acknowledgement. When he saw Chet's head nodding, he continued with his orders. "Alright, go hit the latrine, Kelly. And stay as far away from John as you can during this shift. I'll talk to him when he gets back."

"Yessir," Chet mumbled, rising to his feet a second time. "I'll be more careful."

"Good, thanks…. By the way," Hank said, draping his arm around Chet's shoulders. "I'm really glad for you and Caroline. A good woman is a real treasure. Believe me, I know. I hope you'll be very happy for many, many years."

"Thanks, Cap. I appreciate that. Um," he said, turning to the side to face his captain. "We haven't set a date or anything yet, but do you think you and Mrs. Stanley will be able to come?"

Hank released a genuine smile, holding out his right hand to his junior lineman. "You bet. We wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Thanks," Chet replied, feeling a sense of relief as he exited the office, and started walking across the empty spot where the squad was normally parked. His mind was replaying Johnny's words to him. As much as the Irishman hated to admit it, Johnny had raised a good point that was making Chet question his own actions. No one on the crew ever referred to a victim by race, so why had he used it to describe the doctor who had come to his aid when he needed help?

Knowing that Marco was in the kitchen, Chet veered away from the latrines. He needed to call Mike, and he preferred to use the telephone in the day room. He fished inside his pants pocket for a dime as he walked over to the pay phone. Dropping the dime into the slot, he waited for a dial tone, then proceeded with making the call. As soon as the phone began to ring on the other end of the line, he leaned up against the brick wall.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mike. It's Chet. How's it goin', buddy?" Chet asked, suddenly realizing the stupidity of his question. Mike was on administrative leave for crimes they all knew he didn't commit.

"Oh, just taking it one day at a time. Is something wrong?" Mike questioned, concerned for the welfare of his friends.

"Nope, not at all. In fact, something is very right, for once in my life. Um, Caroline said yes. We're gettin' married."

"Well, congratulations, man! That's great," Mike said, genuinely happy for his lineman. "So, when's the big day?"

"Oh, we haven't set a date yet, but I do hope you'll come." Chet toed the floor nervously with his boot, knowing that Mike's presence at the wedding would all depend on the outcome of Thursday's hearing.

"As long as Hunley and Bennett don't put me in jail, I'll be there," Mike joked, feeling a twinge of uncertainty in his statement. At this moment, he wasn't feeling very confident about the outcome of the hearing.

"Mike, we all know that you didn't do that stuff. Besides, Hunley has to PROVE it, and he can't. I don't think you've got anything to worry about." Chet wished he felt as confident as he sounded.

"He's got a witness, Chet."

Chet heard the deflated tone in Mike's voice, and his heart skipped a beat. How could there be a witness to an event that never occurred. "Who? How?"

"Alexia's roommate is planning on testifying against me. I can't make sense of it, but that's what I've been told. Hey, is Marco around? I need to get the phone number to The Wellhouse. I really need to talk to his sister about it."

Chet jerked his head to the left, noting that Marco was taking inventory of the contents in the cabinets. "Yea, hold on. I'll get him for you."

"Thanks, Chet. And tell Caroline I said congratulations, too."

"I will, thanks." Chet covered the mouth piece of the telephone so as not to shout in Mike's ear. "Hey, Marco? Mike wants to talk to ya."

Marco's dark eyes opened wide in concern, but he stopped what he was doing and quickly made his way over to the telephone. "Thanks," he whispered to Chet as he accepted the telephone. "Mike? How are you?"

"I'm bored out of my mind. Listen, I need to talk to Alexia. Do you happen to know the telephone number of The Wellhouse? I can't find it in the telephone book."

Marco gave a brief sigh before reciting the number for Mike. "They keep it unlisted to prevent harassing phone calls from the girls' pimps and regular customers. Not everyone wants them out of the business, you know?"

"I really hadn't thought about that. Thanks, Marco. I won't share it with anyone, I promise."

"I appreciate it. It's for their safety. Oh, and, Mama and I will be there on Thursday to support you. Joanne has agreed to keep Antonio for us so we can both be there. I'm planning on picking up Alexia, too. She's already asked me. I know that's why you're calling her, Mike, but I really don't think you can talk her out of it." Marco grinned as he thought of how headstrong his little sister could be at times. "When she sets her mind on something, she doesn't back down."

"Yea, well… I'm going to try. I care about her recovery too much to let her go through with testifying. I'll see you on Thursday. Have a safe shift," Mike commented, spitting out the words in rapid succession to keep Marco from interrupting him. He hung up the phone, staring at the line of numbers he had written down inside the front cover of his telephone book. He wrote Alexia's name beside them, but found himself unable to make the call. What if her testimony was the only way to disprove the eye witness account that Hunley was fabricating with Bri? Could he allow Alexia to sacrifice her own mental health for his career? Was that really a fair trade? He closed the book, leaning back in his seat. He had to think carefully about what he would say to Alexia before he made the call. Somehow, he had to make her understand his position on the matter.

E!

Roy looked over at his silent partner as they drove back toward the station. He had tried a few times to engage Johnny in conversation, but the young man seemed too distracted to talk. Seeing the Pourhouse up ahead, he decided to buy Johnny breakfast. Hopefully, he could find out what was wrong with his frustrated partner over a few eggs and coffee. He flipped on the blinker, making the turn into the parking lot.

"What're we doin'?"

"I'm buying you breakfast, Junior," Roy commented, pulling the truck to a stop near the front door. He reached for the handi-talkie, looping the leather strap around his wrist.

"We're on duty," Johnny argued.

"And we're available. Now come on," Roy said, tossing the comment over his shoulder as he headed for the front door. He hoped that seeing their favorite waitress might lighten Johnny's heavy mood.

"Good morning, Roy," Amy said with a big smile. "Coffee with scrambled eggs and bacon, right?"

"Better make it eggs and toast," he said with a smile, holding up the handi-talkie as he took a seat at the table nearest the door. "We're on the clock." The diner was nearly empty and it seemed that Amy was once again working alone. He heard the jingling sound of the door opening, and saw his sour-faced partner walking towards him.

"Hey, Johnny. What can I get for you?" Amy asked.

"Uh, just a couple of scrambled eggs, and a glass of milk," Johnny stated, knowing that he couldn't eat his usual breakfast in the mental state he was in. His appetite was always affected by his emotions, and today was certainly no different.

Amy poured two cups of coffee, knowing that Johnny needed the caffeine boost, even though he hadn't ordered it. She could tell by the look on his face that something was wrong. It wasn't unusual for the guys from 51's to debrief at the diner after a particularly bad run. Seeing that the paramedics were alone and clean, she assumed that they had lost a victim on a medical call instead of at a fire. After serving them their coffee, she left them alone to talk while she placed their order with the cook.

Roy looked over at his partner, seeing for the first time the dark shadows beneath his eyes. "Didn't get much sleep last night, huh?"

"Not really," Johnny confirmed, never lifting his face to look at his partner. Instead, he stared into the coffee cup, thinking about his conversation with Iris.

"Who was she?"

"Who?" Johnny asked, his brown eyes finally looking up.

"The young lady who dumped you last night. Only a woman can make you act like this," Roy commented, raising the white coffee cup to his mouth. He wanted to yell at his partner for the way he had treated Chet during roll call, but he first needed to find out why Johnny was so upset.

"I didn't get dumped by some chick, Roy. Why does it always have to be about my love life, huh?" Johnny questioned, his face turning red.

"Because it usually is," Roy deadpanned. "I don't know what's wrong with you, Johnny, but whatever it is, you've got to get over it. You've been down and out for the last couple of shifts, and then this morning you ruined Chet's big announcement. What's going on?" Roy asked, leaning forward slightly with his crystal blue eyes looking intently at his partner. "I want to help."

"Humph… Folks like you wouldn't understand." There was a lot about Johnny's past that he had never shared with anyone at the station, not even his best friend.

Roy felt the hair on the back of his neck bristle. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Johnny slumped against the seat in the booth, raising his limp hand slightly to wave off the question. "Nothin', Roy. Let's just eat and get back to work."

"No," Roy tapped the table with his index finger. "No way. You brought it up, now finish it."

Johnny snickered sarcastically. "I just meant that there are some things in life that you have to experience, to actually see with your own eyes, to fully understand them." His voice was flat and his normally expressive brown eyes seemed darker than usual.

"Try me," Roy demanded, refusing to allow the conversation to end. Whether intentionally or not, his partner had struck a nerve with his comment, and Roy wasn't going to back off until he had some answers.

"No," Johnny shot back, stiffening his spine. He felt a sense of relief when he saw Amy returning with his milk.

"Here you go, sweetie," she said, placing the cold glass in front of him. "You're orders are almost up."

"Thanks, Amy. Say, are you workin' alone?" Johnny asked, wanting to keep her around the table a little longer. He didn't want to return to the conversation he and Roy were having.

"Yep, Gretchen goes to some religious retreat every other weekend. I don't get it. If God is supposed to be everywhere, then why does she have to go up into the mountains to some hippie hangout to find Him?" She shook her head. "I just don't understand young people these days." The dinging of the cook's bell told her that she had an order to pick up. "Aha, that would be your breakfast, fellas. I'll be right back."

Roy turned his head to the side, watching as Amy walked away. As soon as the waitress was out of hearing range, he spoke up. "Slick move, Junior. But it won't work," he said, glaring at his partner.

Johnny sipped his milk, trying to ignore his partner's comments.

"I see what you're doing. You're avoiding talking to me. Well, we've got at least another 22 hours together, so you can't avoid me for the entire shift. You owe Chet an apology," Roy said, cutting to the point. "He was trying to make the biggest announcement of his life, and you messed it up for him."

A frosty silence settled between the paramedics as Amy came back to serve their meal. Johnny looked up hopefully, smiling at Amy when she set the plate in front of him. "So, Gretchen has gone off and joined a commune?"

"Nah, just goes up there every couple of weeks for somethin'," she offered, waving her hand in front of her face. "She works hard the rest of the time, so I guess it's alright. She can do whatever she wants to do on her off days. I just don't get it," Amy remarked.

"Is it up near Tehachapi?" Johnny asked, picking up his silverware.

"Yea, how'd you know?"

"Just a guess," the dark-haired paramedic commented. "We saw a group of religious hippies up there when we went to look for Mike. I just put two and two together," he said, taking his first bite.

"Strange bunch," Amy remarked. "Harmless, I guess… But strange. Let me know if you need anything," she said, turning and walking away.

Johnny ate a couple of bites, forcing himself to chew his food slowly. He really wasn't hungry, but he didn't want to finish the conversation Roy had started, either. He felt Roy's eyes staring at him, and finally looked up at his partner. "Wha'?"

"I'm worried about you. That's all."

Johnny swallowed the food in his mouth, then gave his friend a forced grin. "Don't be. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself," he commented, noting the grimace that darkened his best friend's face. He began to feel guilty for how he had responded to Roy. He swallowed his food, then spoke up. "Okay, look… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… Ahh, hell. A'right, I'll apologize to Chet when we get back."

"That'd be a good start," Roy replied. His partner was one of the most stubborn people he had ever met, which meant that this was only the beginning of what promised to be a very long shift.

E!

Alexia hung up the phone, feeling a little bounce in her step. Michael Stoker was coming to visit with her. She couldn't wait, but felt a bit of nervousness, too. Was he going to tell her she couldn't testify at his hearing? Did he not want her to even attend it to support him? Those thoughts kept rolling over and over again inside her insecure heart. Was he embarrassed by her? That had to be it. He didn't want her to testify because he was ashamed of being seen with her. She retrieved a glass from the dish drain, filled it with ice and water then walked out into the back yard to sit in the warm September sun. She felt like a prisoner about to face an executioner, and the anxiety was causing her throat to dry out.

A few blocks away, Mike pulled to a stop at a traffic light at a busy intersection. He noticed a small blue tent set up on the corner with a variety of items for sell. He briefly considered his options, smiling to himself as he made a decision. He rolled down the window, calling out to the young women who were working the flower stand.

"Excuse me."

"Yes?" A dark-haired woman replied, as the others were busy with other customers.

"I'd like a small bouquet, please?" He requested, reaching for his wallet.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" She commented, hurrying over to the place where Mike waited inside his car. "That'll be $1.75," she said with a grin, handing him the small bundle of flowers wrapped with tissue paper. "Cut fresh this morning," she stated proudly.

"Thank you, Miss," Mike commented, exchanging the bills for the small bouquet. "Keep the change," he stated, smiling politely at the young saleswoman. As the light turned green, he eased through the intersection, catching a glimpse of a familiar face working on the opposite side of the tent.

As he pulled away, he did a double-take. "Gretchen?" He mumbled to himself, craning his neck to get a better look at her. A honking horn caused him to jerk his attention back to the road as he continued on his way. The site of the waitress selling flowers vanished from his thoughts as quickly as a candle in the wind. He had more pressing issues to deal with at the moment.

A few minutes later, he pulled to a stop near the driveway of The Wellhouse. He picked up the bouquet, walking nervously towards the porch. With each step he took, he counted the reasons why Alexia shouldn't testify, but by the time he reached the front door, he had forgotten them all. The butterflies in his stomach had chased away his reasoning ability. He was about to face her for the first time since leaving her seriously injured at Rampart General Hospital, and his heart was pounding inside his chest. The last time he had seen her, she had been unconscious and near death, battered and bruised from her pimp, and suffering from smoke inhalation. He needed to see her again, needed to erase that image from his brain and replace it with a healthy picture of her. He inhaled a deep breath, then knocked on the front door.

A nice middle aged woman greeted him, directing him around to the back of the house where Alexia was waiting. As he opened up the gate, he saw her sitting at the picnic table with her back to him. Nervously, he stepped up behind her, unaware that she hadn't heard him.

"Hi," he said, softly.

"Ack!" Alexia jumped, nearly falling down as she shot to her feet, grabbing at her chest in fear. "Ohmygod, Michael. You scared me to death."

Mike's heart fell to his feet. That was the last thing he had intended to do. "I'm sorry," he said, offering her a steadying hand. "Take it easy. It's just me. I didn't mean to alarm you. I really am sorry."

Alexia lowered her chin, feeling embarrassed by her jumpiness. "It's okay. I… I guess I might always be startled easily."

Mike felt his heart aching for her. While the bruises had faded, the emotional scars were obvious. He cleared his throat, remembering the flowers he still held in his hand. "Ahem, uh… These are for you," he said, offering her the small bouquet. "I saw them, and they reminded me of you."

Slowly, Alexia lifted her face until she could see what he was offering her. "Oh my, they're beautiful," she said, sniffling. In only two weeks, she had been given more flowers than she had received in her entire life – first from her young son and now from Michael. She looked up from the bouquet, seeing a sparkle in his blue eyes. "Thank you," she said, sniffing the combination of carnations, lilies, and daisies.

"So, do you mind if we talk a few minutes?"

She took a seat on one side of the picnic table, directing him to the opposite side. "Sure, have a seat."

Mike rested his hands on the table, lacing his fingers together in front of him. "You, ah… You look great, Lexi. You look much happier and healthier, too."

"Thank you. I'm feeling better, stronger." She looked back down at the flowers she held. On a whim, she removed the tissue paper, dropping the stems into her half-filled glass of water. "There… They'll feel better and healthier in there, too." She smiled as she stared at the bouquet.

"Now THAT reminds me of you," he stated with a slight chuckle.

"How so?" She asked, knitting her eyebrows together.

He grinned, nodding at the glass of water. "You took a glass that was half empty, and made it full and beautiful."

A blush rushed up her chest and neck, coloring her cheeks. "That's the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me," she whispered, feeling her eyes stinging.

"Well, it's true… Ahem," he continued, clearing his throat to dislodge the lump that was beginning to form. "Um, I guess you're wondering why I'm here."

"No," she said, still staring at the flower arrangement he had given her. "I know you're here to tell me I can't testify."

Mike hated the mousy sound of her voice as her words seemed to wilt. "I don't really think it's a good idea, Lexi."

"I know… I understand, Michael. I really can't blame you. I mean, if I was in your shoes, then I'd be embarrassed, too," she said, softly touching the tight petals of the carnations.

"Embarrassed? Why?" He asked, not understanding what she meant.

Her dark eyes shifted from the flowers to her guest. "Because I'm a hooker, Michael. I don't blame you for not wanting me to testify for you, telling people about meeting with me all those nights."

"No, no, wait," he said, holding up his hands with his palms facing out. "First, you WERE a hooker, Lexi. You're making a lot of progress leaving that life behind, and I'm so proud of you. Second, we didn't do anything on those nights. We were together, but not together..." His voice faded, as he looked down at the wooden table top. "Geez, I sound like Johnny," he snickered. "I just mean that I'm not ashamed of the fact that we spent time together; we were just talking."

"Then why?"

He licked his lips, looking deeply into her sad eyes. "Lexi, you just don't know Leonard Hunley like I do. He's-"

"Evil… Hideous… Horrible… A monster… How am I doing so far?" She asked, a flash of repulsion crossing her face.

Mike's eyebrows lifted towards his hairline. "Pretty well, actually. You act like you know him."

Alexia wanted to tell Michael the truth about the man, but her fear of reprisal kept her lips firmly sealed. Leonard Hunley had nearly killed Bri. More than anything, Alexia wanted to tell Michael the truth about the Fire Marshall, but the memory of her assault by Ricardo stripped the air out of her lungs, leaving her unable to tell Michael what she knew. She did know Leonard Hunley, better than Michael knew him. The Assistant Chief lived a double life, but the only person who could testify to that fact was Bri, and it seemed as if Bri was determined to take Hunley's side at the hearing.

"Lexi? You okay?" Mike asked, seeing the young woman staring into nothingness.

Alexia blinked her eyes rapidly, forcing back the memories. "Oh, yea… Yea, I'm fine."

"So… Do you?" Mike asked, having gotten no response to his earlier comment.

"Do I what?"

"Do you know him? Hunley?" He asked, beginning to feel more concerned about the upcoming hearing.

Thinking quickly, Alexia answered him as honestly as she could. "I've never met him."

"Well, I don't want you to meet him. Lexi," he began, shifting in his seat. His tone caused her to look away from him again. "He's a liar, and he'll bring up your past to discredit you."

Alexia felt her lower lip begin to tremble, and her vision began to blur. Her throat was stinging as she tried to force the words out that she needed to say. "Michael… My past is going to follow me around, forever. It's a shadow that I can't ever leave behind. But your reputation is spotless. Marco told me so." She looked back up at him, her tears finally spilling over onto her cheeks. "I don't care what he says. No matter what happens to me on Thursday, I don't care because I've been through worse. But, what I can't live with is you losing your job because… Because of me," she said, her voice cracking as she covered her face with her hands. "Why don't you get that?" She cried, crossing her arms on the table, and laying her head down on her forearms.

Mike watched as her shoulders shook, hearing her sniffling as she cried. He felt like his heart had just been ripped out of his chest. He didn't want her to testify because doing so would be painful for her. He wanted to protect her from Leonard Hunley. Yet, her words made it sound like she was the protector. Was she trying to protect Mike from Hunley, too? Did that mean that on some level, she was beginning to care about him, too? That possibility caught him off guard, and instinctively, he reached out to stroke her dark hair. He thought about how she had reacted to his voice when he had first arrived, and knew that she would likely have an even more dramatic response to his touch. He pulled his outstretched hand back without making contact, deciding to continue the conversation, instead.

"Lexi, please look at me." He waited for several long moments before she lifted her face. Her eyes were red and swollen, her make-up smudged. "I don't want to see you get hurt. I can handle whatever he throws at me, but I can't handle seeing you like this," he said, gesturing toward her tear-stained face.

"Then let me testify, Michael. Let me tell the truth," she begged. "Somebody needs to discredit Bri. I can do that," she suggested.

"Why is she out to get me? I don't understand," he asked, feeling his defenses weakening.

"I really don't know," Alexia commented, running her fingers beneath her eyes. "I don't know what she's thinking. She got kicked out of here. She's back working the streets, and... Ohmygod, that's it!"

"What's it?" The confused engineer asked. He had no idea what Alexia was thinking.

"She's back turning tricks. That's it! We can stop her from testifying, Michael," she said, basically bouncing in her seat.

"How?"

"Don't you see? We've got to have a cop arrest her Wednesday night. If she's in jail then she can't testify against you."

Mike felt his heart skip a beat inside his chest. If Bri didn't testify, then Alexia wouldn't feel the need to testify, either. The witness, and a few pieces of circumstantial evidence, was all that the Fire Marshall had against Mike, anyway. So if the key witness was arrested for prostitution right before the hearing… He felt his spirits lifting, and a smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth.

"So, do you think it'll work? You think you can ask the cops to take her in?" Alexia asked, excitedly.

"It can't hurt to try," he stated, his voice sounding hopeful. "I'll make it a point to swing by the police station tomorrow and see Ron. He's a detective friend of mine." He looked at her, a grin lighting up his face. "Is it okay if I call you afterwards? To tell you what I find out?"

"I'd like that. It's going to work, Michael. We're going to stop Bri from testifying."

E!

A/N: Thank you all for reading and especially to those who encourage me. You really keep my muse going.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Roy glanced to his left, looking into the side mirror of the squad as he backed the vehicle into the apparatus bay beside her big sister. He shifted into park, then opened his door with a loud creaking sound. On the opposite side of the truck, Johnny stepped out and slammed the passenger's door closed. They had been on one run after another for the last ten hours, leaving very little time for Roy to press Johnny for an explanation of what was bothering him. Both men hoped the klaxon gods would smile upon them, giving them a reprieve from the chaos, at least long enough to enjoy whatever Marco had prepared for their dinner.

The hungry paramedics followed the delicious aroma permeating the station, but a deep voice intercepted Johnny just as he reached the dayroom door.

"John, I need to talk to you in my office."

The paramedic's dark eyes drifted closed with a defeated sigh. He pressed his lips together, turning to follow the sound of his captain's command, dreading the tongue-lashing that awaited him. He stepped into the office, closing the door behind him, and seeing Hank gesturing to the seat beside the captain's desk. The tired paramedic leaned his forearms on his knees, rubbing his flattened hands together as he hung his head.

The fire captain had been thinking about the pending conversation with his junior medic since roll call. Something was wrong, and if it was going to affect his job performance, then Hank needed to help the young man resolve it.

"I'm concerned about you, John," Hank began, thinking about the mental state of his youngest man. "The outburst you had this morning… Well, if there's something going on that I need to know about, then you have to tell me. Did you and Roy have a bad run last shift?"

Hank's question was met by total silence. He watched as Johnny continued rubbing his hands together. He had been watching the entire crew go through hell over the last year, including himself. It seemed to have started with Chet, and now that the young lineman was engaged, Hank was hoping everything might be turning around. His mind quickly shifted to his own marriage, and how much closer he and Becca had become. Roy and Joanne seemed to have put their marriage back on track, and the Lopez family was quickly moving towards reunification. A wave of guilt washed over him as he quickly thought of Mike's current situation. Maybe if he had intervened sooner for Mike, his engineer wouldn't be going through his current crisis. That's why he had to be proactive with his youngest crew member.

Johnny realized that his captain was waiting on an answer, and he knew he had to give him some kind of a response. "No, we've just been busy."

Hank knew Johnny was being his usual evasive self. No one, not even Roy, could force the young man to talk until he was ready. "Sometimes, I wish I was a mind reader, John."

Johnny snorted at the comment. "It's prob'ly a good thing you aren't, Cap."

Hank arched an eyebrow in confusion. "I'd really like to know what's going on in there," he stated, pointing at Johnny's head. "You and Chet seem to be going at it more and more these days. I'm beginning to think that the two of you shouldn't be working together," Hank commented, baiting his paramedic.

That remark caused Johnny to jerk his head up, worry lines creasing his forehead. "Cap, no. Please don't transfer me. I mean, I was wrong this mornin'; Roy helped me see that. I'm gonna apologize to Chet. As a matter of fact, that's where I was heading when you called me in here."

"Apologize for what?" Hank wanted to hear his medic explain himself.

"For assuming he was bein' a…," Johnny paused, gulping before he continued. He looked back down at his hands. Had he really believed that about his friend? "That he was bein' a racist."

"I see." Hank leaned back in his seat. "I understand why you might think that about Chet, based on what that twit said during roll call, but I don't think he meant anything by it. If I did, he wouldn't still be here. John, I respect you very much, just as I respect all of my men. I don't see skin color, or heritage. I see five fine men who give the citizens in this district the very best protection they can."

"I agree with most of what you just said, Cap," Johnny began, his dark eyes leveling his captain with sincerity. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. His captain had a way of pulling bits of information out of him that even Roy couldn't get. He needed to choose his words carefully, saying just enough to satisfy Hank's curiosity without revealing his closely guarded secret. "But with all due respect, you really don't understand why Chet's comment set me off this morning. You can't. You weren't there."

"Not there? John, it was roll call. I WAS there."

"That's not what I mean, Cap. Another place, another time… You weren't there. I was. And I'll never forget it," Johnny said softly, worried that he was saying too much.

Hank knew that whatever his youngest crew member was referring to, it was making him very vulnerable now. Something had happened to his medic, and whether it was on the job or off, Hank wanted to help him deal with it. He didn't know much about John's past, except that the young man had lived with his aunt when he first came to California. He wondered if something had happened to her, or perhaps to John's parents. Whatever it was, it was obviously affecting his job performance.

"Don't you have some vacation time available?" Hank inquired.

"Yea, why?" Johnny asked, not understanding why his captain seemed to be changing the subject.

"I'm wondering if perhaps you're tired. Maybe a nice long camping trip would help you clear your head, and put a little distance between you and Chet."

Johnny's dark eyes stared at his captain, wondering what Hank had really meant by his statement. Was his superior merely suggesting that he take some time off to rest, or was he hinting at something else? "Are you giving me the option of taking paid leave instead of a suspension? I told you I was gonna apologize to him," Johnny said, feeling defensive.

Hank raised his hand to calm Johnny's growing distress. "No, John. I don't think this rises to the level of a suspension. You don't have to use your vacation time in lieu of a formal reprimand, or anything like that." Hank shifted his position in his seat. The fact that Johnny thought his behavior might lead to such disciplinary action made the fire captain even more anxious. Hank knew what he was about to say would upset his medic, but he knew he was obligated to make the offer. "John, if you'd like to see the department psychologist about this, I'll make it happen. And no one will know except you and me."

"Humph," Johnny smirked. "So, I'm the one with the problem? No thanks, Cap."

"I didn't say YOU had the problem, but if you've experienced something difficult, then maybe it would help to talk to a professional. That's why we have the guy on staff. Bad experiences are a part of our jobs."

Johnny sat back in his seat, fighting against the frustrated grunt that seemed to be forcing its way into his throat. "I handled it myself, a long time ago, and-"

"Bullshit," Hank spat out, knowing the uncharacteristic expletive would halt Johnny's denial. The wide eyes looking back at him validated that fact. "Whatever this is, it isn't in your past. It's still with you."

Johnny knew that his captain was right, but he had worked hard to keep his fears from his past life neatly tucked away. He wasn't about to admit that they were beginning to sneak out of their hiding place, and invade his present life as well. He sat up straighter in his chair, retreating behind his own invisible wall of defense. "I'm fine now; really I am," he lied, worried that Hank would see through the fallacy. "I'm gonna tell Chet that I'm sorry, and everything will be good. Okay?" He asked, his dark eyes hopeful that the uncomfortable conversation was almost over.

Hank wasn't happy with the sarcasm he heard in his young medic's voice, but decided not to pursue the issue. With a lot of hesitation and against his better judgment, he acquiesced. "Alright, I'm going to trust you on this. But the offer is a standing offer, John. I'm here for you if you need me. Please promise me that you'll let me know if I can help, any time, day or night."

"I will. Thanks, Cap." Johnny's stomach growled at that moment, causing a chuckle to be passed between the two men.

"Go feed your skinny butt," Hank laughed. "And let me know if Chet continues his antics."

Johnny nodded his head, tossing his superior a crooked grin. He opened the door, scurrying to the kitchen to join the rest of the crew for their evening meal. He walked into the room with a sense of relief. He had somehow managed to escape his captain's office without revealing too much. The relief was short lived as he saw the crew working to get the table set and the food ready. He caught the quick glance from Chet, seeing how quickly his friend turned his face away from him. No matter how angry Johnny had become during roll call, the fact that he had taken Chet's joyous announcement and doused it with his angry words was bothering the paramedic more than he thought it would. He winced at the sight of Chet deliberately turning his back on him. Slowly, he made his way over to the fuming lineman who was chopping vegetables for a salad.

"Hey, ah… Can I talk to ya for a minute?" He asked, picking up a couple of slices of cucumber to settle his grumbling belly.

"Why?" Chet questioned, never looking away from the cutting board.

Johnny knew he deserved the remark, but that didn't take away the sting. "Because I've got somethin' I'd like to say to ya," he looked around at the others before lowering his voice, "in private."

Chet pushed the knife down with a little more force than necessary to chop through the head of lettuce. "Nope, if you got something to say to me, then say it in front of everybody. You didn't yell at me in private this morning, why make it private now?" Chet continued shredding the lettuce, dropping handfuls of the leafy vegetable in the large bowl beside him.

Roy finished setting the table, having overheard the snarling bits of conversation between the two men. He stepped up behind Chet, reaching over the younger man's arm to remove the knife from his hand. "I'll finish this up. I think maybe you two need a couple of minutes to iron out your differences."

Johnny used his eyes to silently thank his partner for intervening. He watched as Chet slowly turned to face him, landing a hand on his hip.

"Alright. Bay?" The lineman asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

"Yea."

Marco and Roy watched as their partners exited the kitchen. They each returned quickly to the chores at hand, hoping that the difficulties of the day were about to come to an end.

Out in the apparatus bay, Johnny and Chet stood facing each other behind the squad. Johnny propped his forearm against the back of the truck, searching for the right words to use in his apology. Chet crossed his short arms over his chest, knowing that Johnny had raised a good point with his question during roll call, one he still hadn't come to terms with, yet.

"Chet, I'm sorry for how I reacted this mornin'. I shouldn't've jumped on ya like that. I'm sorry… I hope you'll accept my apology."

Chet stared at the gray cement floor, shoving his hands into his pockets. Could he accept the apology being offered to him? Was Johnny really being sincere? He glanced up, his blue eyes pinning Johnny in his shoes. "Cap making ya do this?"

Johnny closed his eyes, lowering his face as he shook his head. "No, man. My idea," he said, pointing a finger at his own chest. "It was my mistake, and I regret it. I'm sorry… And I'm really happy for you and Caroline. She's been good for you and it's obvious to all of us that you've been good for her and Corrie. I think you're gonna make a great husband and father, Chet," he said, clearing his throat. "Ahem, anyway, I'm sorry. I jus' wanted ya to know that, even if you choose not to forgive me."

Johnny hesitated, searching Chet's face for some sense that the lineman was willing to forgive him. When he saw nothing to give him hope, he continued. "Cap, ah… Well, he's concerned about us workin' together. I'll… I'll request a transfer. It's my issue, not yours," he said, turning away, his heart breaking at the thought of leaving his home and his brothers because of his big mouth. He took a step towards the back bay door, needing to get some fresh air, when a hand grabbed him by the elbow, spinning him back around.

"Don't, Gage."

"Why not? I messed up," Johnny repeated, admitting his guilt, even if he still felt justified by what he'd said. However, he chose to keep his thoughts to himself. After all, the last time he spoke up against offensive racial remarks, Roy had called him overly sensitive. Once again, he was allowing the ideas of the majority to silence him, just as he had done when he was younger.

"Look, I'm still a little mad about you crushing my announcement this morning, but… I've been thinkin' about what you said, and… And I don't know why I did it." Chet locked his blue eyes with the brown eyes of his crew mate. "You asked me why I called him a black doctor instead of just a doctor, and… I don't know." Chet's gaze dropped back down as he shared his worry. "I appreciate what he did for me, really I do, so why did I make that reference this morning? It's been bothering me all day, man. I'm…" He coughed into his closed fist. "Ahua… I'm not… I'm not like that, Johnny. I don't judge people by their race, but…"

"But you see it, Chet." Johnny's own face held no judgment about the confession Chet was sharing with him. "See, we…" Johnny paused, placing a hand on his chest before continuing. "When you're in the minority, you see the rest of the world and compare how you're alike. But you, and others like you… People in power, the majority…" He shook his head digging deeply for the right words. "You look at others who are in the minority, and the first thing you see is how we're different. Even if you don't realize it."

"Are you sayin' I'm a bigot?" Chet asked, his voice calm even though his heart was pounding.

"No… I'm not sayin' that at all. It's not somethin' you're doin' intentionally. You were raised in one world, and I was raised in another. It changes how we see things. I've tried to fit into your world my whole life. You've never had to fit into mine," Johnny said softly.

"But… I'm not tryin' to keep you out of my world. I kinda like havin' ya in it, Johnny." Chet's voice sounded weak, but he persisted with his admission.

Johnny allowed his trademark grin to replace his frown. He reached out, slapping his friend on the shoulder. "I know, Kelly. It's just somethin' ya gotta experience, and I'm glad you haven't felt it before. It sure ain't much fun. How 'bout we go eat?"

"Oh man, I'm starvin'," Chet offered, smiling in relief. "Oh, and I accept your apology, Johnny, but I can't speak for the Phantom."

"Ugh," Johnny groaned.

"But I hope you'll come to the wedding," Chet announced, thoughts of making Caroline his wife planting a smile on his face.

"I wouldn't miss it. Besides, I'm gonna have a blast decorating the old VW van," Johnny chuckled.

Standing in his office, having just eavesdropped on his men, Hank Stanley sighed in relief. Whatever ghosts were haunting his younger medic seemed to have retreated, at least for now. However, as they so often did, Hank knew that ghosts from the past had a way of being resurrected in the future, bringing havoc and hell with them. He wondered what ghost from Johnny's past was bringing hell to his life now. Leonard Hunley was just such a ghost, putting Hank's second in command through pure hell along with Hank. The big question now was whether Mike would be exonerated, or would the demon that was Leonard Hunley steal the soul of an innocent man?

E!

It was almost noon, the following day when Mike Stoker pulled into the parking lot of Barney Olsen's office. He had been overjoyed that the popular attorney had had a cancellation. As he looked at his surroundings, he had to wonder if he could afford to retain Barney Olsen's services, but then again, could he afford not to?

He felt like a fish out of water amid all the expensive cars in the parking lot. He hurriedly made his way up the pristine walkway with marble steps. He paused at the bronze plaque on the brick building, wondering what it must have been like for the former fireman to make such a shift in his career. Then, with a quick glance at his watch, he opened the door and stepped inside.

In front of him, he saw a pretty young woman, wearing glasses with large frames that accentuated her brown eyes. Her hair was flowing in waves down around her face, and her long manicured finger nails were wrapped around a shiny stainless steel pen that looked like it cost more than Mike's monthly income. She lifted her chin slightly to look at him.

"May I help you?"

Mike cleared his throat before responding. "Ahem, yes, my name is Mike Stoker, and I'm here to see Mr. Olsen."

With a flutter of her extra-long eyelashes, she scanned her appointment book. "Yes, I see. Please have a seat. I'll let him know you're here as soon as he finishes with his current appointment."

"Thank you," Mike said, turning around and walking to an empty brown leather chair. His heart was pounding inside his chest. He hoped he hadn't made a mistake by coming here.

After nearly half an hour, a large wooden office door opened, revealing a stunning middle-aged woman dressed provocatively in a tight fitting dress and too much make-up. She appeared to dramatically swipe a lone tear from the corner of her left eye as she leaned in and kissed her attorney on the cheek. "Thank you, Barney. You're amazing," she slurred, swishing her hips from side to side as she headed for the exit.

"Mr. Stoker."

Mike never heard his name called out as his blue eyes continued to follow the woman who was sashaying across the wooden floor, her heels clicking in time with the beating of his heart.

"Mike Stoker," Mr. Olsen nearly shouted, trying not to snicker as the engineer's head jerked away from the woman's retreating backside.

Mike stood up, straightening his tie and walking towards the open door. He had only been inside an attorney's office a couple of times in his life, but never one as fancy as this one. He reached out his hand, firmly shaking the proffered hand of Mr. Olsen.

"Come on in, Mike. It is okay if I call you Mike, isn't it?" The attorney asked, closing the door behind him. Before the engineer could answer, the attorney continued. "Have a seat."

"Um, th-thank you," Mike responded, clearly uncomfortable.

"So, what can I do for you?"

Mike didn't want to waste the man's time. Being a man of few words, he got straight to the point. "I need to hire an attorney for a personnel hearing, but how much is your retainer? I'm a fireman, so cost is a huge factor."

Barney Olsen sat upright in his chair. "You probably can't afford more than a couple of hours, but…" He hesitated, standing up and walking over to his office bar. "You came to me for a reason." He poured himself a drink before finishing his statement. "Let me find out what the reason is before we discuss price."

Mike wasn't sure he liked that approach, but he didn't have another choice. He spent the next half hour explaining everything that had happened, especially the details about Bri and her plan for perjury at the hearing. He was so caught up in his account of the events, that he missed the smug look Mr. Olsen was giving him. Finally, after telling every embarrassing detail about the events that led up to the accusations, Mike sat back in his chair, waiting to see if he could afford the Beverly Hills attorney's services.

"So, Mike… Did you do it?"

"Of course not!" Mike shot back, jumping to his feet. "I think I better go." If this attorney, a former fireman, thought him capable of such heinous acts, then Mike certainly didn't want to entrust his entire future into his hands.

"Sit back down, Mike. I just needed to know the truth, that's all. Attorney/client privileges," he commented with a wave of his hand. "I just needed to know how to defend you against the Fire Marshall, whom you seem to believe is out to get you."

"I know it sounds crazy, but that's exactly how I feel. I've never, nor will I ever commit arson."

"So then… I guess Leonard Hunley's at it again, huh?"

Mike knitted his eyebrows together. Had he heard the man correctly? "I'm not sure what you mean."

"You know I was with the department for many years before I went back to law school. I suspect that's why you're here. Anyway, there were rumors back then about Hunley being a bit of a rogue character, but he was a legacy, so to speak. A third generation fireman can be hard to get rid of after he makes it through The Academy and finishes his probationary period." Barney picked up his glass, staring into it for dramatic effect as he rolled it around with his fingers. "Even the crazies can fake sanity in the short term. Hell, even Hunley could do it for a while, but eventually his true self began to surface." The attorney chuckled to himself. "I'll tell you what, Mike. I'll represent you, pro bono. It's only a personnel hearing, not criminal court."

"Not yet, anyway," Mike deadpanned, still concerned about Bri's testimony. Then, he thought about how rude he was being. "I'm sorry, Mr. Olsen. I'm really grateful to you for your services. I didn't mean to sound unappreciative. Do you think you can help me get out of this mess?"

The confident attorney tipped his head back, lifting the heavy leaded crystal glass to his smiling lips. After he gulped down the last of his drink, he set the glass down, lacing his fingers together as he leaned forward. "Mike, I don't think you're going to need rescuing," he punned, giving his client a sly wink. "I like your plan for Bri, but it's best if you let me handle notifying the police. The Police Chief owes me a favor, and I think it might be time I collected on it. When's the hearing?"

"This Thursday, ten o'clock at headquarters."

"Meet me there around nine o'clock," Mr. Olsen requested. "Oh, and have the young lady you mentioned get there around that same time, too."

"Alexia?" Mike asked, concerned. He thought he had convinced the attorney that her testimony wouldn't be necessary.

"Yes, I want to prepare her for what it may be like, if testifying becomes necessary."

Mike sighed. "So you think she'll have to tell her story?"

"I'll only call her in if this starts to go badly. But she needs to be there, just in case."

"I understand," Mike stated, standing up. Once again, he extended his hand for a hand shake. "I can't thank you enough, Mr. Olsen."

"Barney," the attorney corrected. "I'll see you on Thursday, and I'll see if I can arrange for this, ahhh," he stammered, flipping through his notes, "Brianna Olivier, to be a little preoccupied that morning," he grinned.

"Thanks again," the relieved engineer commented as he left the office. His steps were a little lighter as he walked across the parking lot. Silently he prayed that not only would he be exonerated of the charges, but that Alexia wouldn't have to sacrifice her healing in the process.

Inside his office, Barney poured himself another drink then walked over to the window of his office. He swirled the liquor around in the glass as he watched the young engineer pull out into traffic. Karma was smiling down on the attorney today. He had hoped to one day face Leonard Hunley in a personnel hearing at headquarters. And this time, he would do whatever it took to take down the man who had been a blight on the LA County Fire Department for far too long.

E!

Mike jingled his keys, opening up the door of his apartment. He had taken the first step in returning to his position as engineer of A-shift at Station 51. He sat down in his recliner, reaching for the telephone. He wanted to tell Alexia how his appointment had gone, and to warn her that her testimony might be necessary, after all. He picked up the receiver, dialing the number. He was surprised when Alexia answered the telephone.

"Hello? Wellhouse."

"Lexi? It's Mike. He took my case pro bono," he said, hearing the relief in his own voice as he got straight to the point.

"What's that mean?" She asked, not understanding the legal term.

"It means he's going to represent me for free at the personnel hearing."

Alexia felt herself bouncing on her toes. "Oh, Michael, that's great! What did he say about us having Bri arrested?"

"He liked the idea, even said he'd take care of it for us. I didn't go by the police station." Mike rubbed his sweaty palm along his dark pants. "Um, he wants to know if you can be at headquarters around nine o'clock Thursday morning. He won't ask you to testify unless he has to."

"Of course. Marco's coming by to get me. I thought I told you that already," she reminded him, concerned by the way his voice seemed to weaken.

"Yea… Yea, I guess you did. I was hoping it wouldn't be necessary. I'm sorry, Lexi. I never meant for any of this to happen," Mike apologized.

"YOU'RE sorry? How do you think I feel, Michael? I regret my choices every day," she said, her voice cracking.

"No, no, no. Please don't say that. You've come so far in such a short period of time. I have so much respect for you, Lexi. I… I can't tell you how proud I am to have been the one to help you when you needed it. You amaze me," he stated.

"Then let me do this for you. I – I need to do something to at least try to pay you back for all you did for me. I hope you understand," she countered.

Mike thought about all the mementos of gratitude he and his crew had received over the years. Roy had been given a plant and Johnny had received a dog. They had all gotten cards of thanks, Crayola pictures from kids, and even a few homemade edible goodies, and a few not so edible, all given to them by people they had helped during rescues. He did understand it on some level, but he still considered those rescues to be a part of his job. He was doing what all firefighters do as a part of their usual everyday routine, even if for the victims it was anything but an ordinary day. For them, it was the worst day of their lives. Mike knew that Thursday might well be the worst day of his life, and he needed the support of his crew mates, his brothers, to get him through it.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat, dislodging the lump that was forming there. "I do understand, Lexi. And all I can say is that I am so grateful to you for doing this for me. I hope you won't have to be called as a witness, but just you being there to support me… It means a lot."

"You're welcome. You were there when I needed you, Michael. I want to return the favor. Oh, and I have some news, too," she said, feeling giddy inside. "After your hearing, I'm going home, back to live with Mama and Antonio."

"Really? Oh, that's great. I'm so happy for you," he said sincerely. "And I know that Mrs. Lopez and Antonio couldn't be happier." He thought about his friend, Marco, and how happy the lineman would be to have his family reunited after so many years. He was glad to have played a role in the reunification process, even if it ultimately cost him his career.

"Um, I've got to work on my chores around here so I need to go, but everything will be fine on Thursday, Michael. I've been praying again, and… Mama has, too. It'll be okay, I just know it. So, try to get some rest, and… I guess I'll see you on Thursday."

"I think I'll rest a little better now that I've got legal representation. Take care of yourself. It sounds like Thursday will be a big day for both of us. Bye, Lexi."

"Goodbye, Michael."

E!

It was midweek when Officer Clay spotted a dark haired young woman stretched beneath the large expanse of trees in the small rundown park. It was a place frequented by homeless people, some he recognized and some he didn't. He had been working this area for a couple of years, and knew that with enough patience, he would see a drug deal go down, or see money exchanged for a sex act. This was the seedy underworld of the City of Angels, occurring in plain sight of the average working man. It was an area most people turned a blind eye to, refusing to look at what they didn't want to see. However, the undercover officer saw something completely different. He saw individuals, people who had been dealt a bad hand by life, and who didn't have the resources or the social support system to extricate them from the life they were trapped in. Some were mentally ill, others were addicted to drugs. Some had been on their own since they were children, with no means to feed themselves except by selling their bodies to the scumbags who used and abused them. He wanted to help get them out of the muck and mire they were in, to let them know that someone in the world cared about them. He was a rare breed of law enforcement officer – half cop, half social worker.

He took a seat on a nearby park bench, opening up the newspaper that served as a prop for his current disguise. Inside, taped on the lower left hand side of the page, was a black and white mug shot of a young prostitute. She was his assignment. He didn't know why there was so much interest in her case, but he knew that he had been given instructions to bring her in before nightfall, if possible.

Knowing he had to be careful in his approach, he placed an old lunch box next to his hip. It had taken most of the day, but he had found her, and he figured that she would be hungry. He had a couple of sandwiches tucked inside the fading lunch box, a ruse that had served him well in the past. By providing a sandwich to a hungry prostitute, the young woman, and sometimes young man, would usually accept the proffered food. Then, after having their most basic need met and feeling a hint of safety around the undercover officer, they often approached him with an offer to perform some sexual service in return for a few dollars.

He glanced down at the page, then back up at the woman who was beginning to gather up her beige macramé purse and small back pack. She was dirty, but there was no doubt in his mind that she was the person he was looking for. He picked up his lunch box, tucked the paper beneath his arm, and began to follow her as she headed down the street towards the public restrooms.

He took a seat on the small brick wall across the sidewalk. It took several minutes of waiting before she emerged, looking a little cleaner. She wandered over towards the water fountain, sipping a bit of the cooling liquid, unaware that her every move was being watched.

Bri knew by the placement of the autumn sun in the sky, that it was mid-afternoon. Her belly was growling, and she was anxious to get to the bus stop to meet Lennie. She hated what she was going to have to do for him, but at least she would be able to bathe, put on clean clothes, and fill the emptiness in her stomach in just a few hours. And no matter what she had to endure overnight, she would never have to see him again after the hearing tomorrow. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face when the real truth was told.

She smelled the scent of hotdogs grilling at the snack stand, and decided to dig down into her purse, hoping to find enough change to purchase one. She hadn't eaten all day, and she was beginning to feel a little dizzy.

"Want a sandwich?"

Bri looked up at the sound of the man's voice, unsure if he was talking to her. "What?"

"I have an extra sandwich, and you look like you could use one," he offered, holding out the ham sandwich.

"No thanks. I don't take food from strangers," she said, her mouth watering at the thought of eating something. Yet, safety was her first concern.

Not to be deterred, the undercover officer continued. "My name is Clay," he said, smiling. "Now we aren't strangers. Look, I have two ham sandwiches. I only want one. I'm gonna throw the other one away if you don't want it." He was encouraged by her hesitation, and so he continued. "I'll even let you choose the one you want, then I'll eat the other one. That way you'll know I didn't do anything to it."

Bri watched as the young man with long hair flowing from beneath his baseball cap, held out both sandwiches. Against her better judgment, she chose the sandwich he held in his left hand, placing it into her purse. "Okay, so eat that one while I watch."

The undercover officer gave her a gentle smile. "No problem. Join me?"

Having nothing better to do with her time at the moment, she sat down on the wall, well out of his reach, and waited while he ate a few bites of his sandwich. With a jaw full of ham and bread, he wiped his mouth with a napkin he had packed inside the lunch box. "Hard to swallow dry bread," he laughed. "I think I'll buy a soda to go with mine. Want one?" He asked, looking over his shoulder as he took a few steps towards a street vendor, who also happened to be his undercover partner.

Bri's shoulders raised and fell in a noncommittal gesture. She wondered if the young man really was as nice as he seemed. No one ever did anything for her without expecting something in return. Quickly, she made an assumption about what he must be wanting in exchange for his sandwich. It wouldn't be the first time she had traded herself for food. Then another thought invaded her mind. Perhaps she could get more than food from him. If Lennie wouldn't buy her a new dress for the hearing, then maybe she could earn enough money to buy one for herself.

The officer returned with a couple of sodas, having spoken to his partner to set up the signal – closing his lunch box. The partner watched closely as Clay popped the top on his canned drink and sat back down, passing the unopened one to their target. He was prepared to give chase to assist Clay should the arrest not go as planned.

Bri sucked in a deep breath, returning to her old persona to initiate the transaction. "So, are you here looking for a little company?"

Clay stuffed the last bite of the sandwich into his overfilled mouth. As soon as he washed the food down with a long drink of soda, he spoke up again. "Company? What kind of company?"

"I need a little cash, and I was wondering if you'd like a little company in exchange? I get what I need, and you get something in return."

Clay cleared his throat, knowing he had to tread carefully. He didn't want to alarm her, and he couldn't make an arrest if he entrapped her. "So, you mean…," he waved his hand between them. When she nodded her head, he grinned. "Where would we do it?"

Bri looked around the area. "Well, the bathrooms aren't crowded. We can go inside one of them and lock ourselves in."

Clay closed up his lunch box, glancing over Bri's shoulder at his street vendor partner who was folding up his umbrella in preparation for the take down. "How much money do you need?"

Bri did a quick mental calculation. "Twenty-five for full service."

Clay scratched his chin, cutting his eyes at his partner in the distance. "Okay, you've got a deal."

Bri stood up, pulling her purse strap onto her shoulder and reaching for her backpack. She was stunned when she suddenly found her arms pinned behind her back. "Brianna Olivier, you're under arrest for prostitution. You have the right to remain silent…"

"What the…?" Bri screamed, seeing the street vendor rushing over to assist his partner. Her purse and backpack were removed from her wrists, replaced by metal cuffs. "I ain't done nothing wrong," she screamed. "And how did you know my name?"

After a quick walk across the grassy area of the rundown park, Bri stood beside the unmarked patrol car parked along the street. Clay opened the back door, placing his hand on his prisoner's head and gently pushing down.

"Watch your head," he warned, closing the door as soon as Bri's feet were safely inside the car.

Clay and his partner took their seats in the front of the car. He cranked the ignition while his partner radioed the station that they were bringing in a female prisoner on prostitution charges.

In the backseat, Bri felt her hot tears burning trails down her cheeks. Her plan for revenge on Leonard Hunley was falling apart. "Please," she cried, begging the two officers. "Please don't do this. I – I've gotta be in court tomorrow. I'm a witness. I gotta be there. Please don't lock me up, please?"

"Exchanging sex for money is a crime, Miss Olivier," Clay stated, flatly. "So, yea, I believe you will be in court real soon."

"How do you know my name?" Bri cried out, her mind still swirling from the quick turn of events.

"Not your first arrest. We know the regulars," Clay commented. He didn't want to lie to her, but he didn't know any more than what he had just told her. "At least you'll have three hots and a cot until you're released, and you won't have to sell yourself to get 'em. That's got to be better than what you're doing out here."

"You don't understand," she continued to cry softly, sensing that everything she had been through in recent weeks was going to be in vain. "You're ruining it all, everything!"

E!

Back at his office, Barney Olsen accepted an urgent telephone call from his friend, the Chief of Police.

"So… She's on her way in, huh?" Barney asked. "Excellent. Well, I'm on my way. She's going to need legal representation, and I've made arrangements with the judge to be her public defender." He listened to what the chief had to say, and then broke back into the conversation. "Don't worry, I'll be assigned to her case. I'll just wait for her to lawyer up," he chuckled, hanging up the telephone.

Pulling on his suit coat, he straightened his tie then headed out of the office. He figured he would arrive downtown about the time Bri was finished being processed. Then he would have a few minutes alone with his newest client, and possibly obtain the information he needed to clear Mike Stoker of the allegations against him by the infamous Assistant Chief Leonard Hunley.

Closing his car door, he cranked up his black Corvette Stingray, roaring into the Beverly Hills traffic. Firemen held a special place in Barney's heart, at least the good ones did. For men like Leonard Hunley, Barney felt a disgust that made his blood boil. He had always found so much satisfaction in using his skills as a fireman to save lives and property. Now, he felt the same sense of satisfaction when using his Juris Doctorate to defend the innocent, righting wrongs, and soon he hoped to use it to send the cheating assistant chief straight to the bowels of hell from whence he had slithered years earlier.

E!


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Bri was sniveling as she was escorted into the jail, the handcuffs reminding her of one of Lennie's favorite activites. It was a place she had been before, so she knew the procedure. Under other circumstances, she wouldn't have been so upset, even though she would have been expected to make up the money to her pimp. However, this was the day before Mike Stoker's hearing, and she had to be there. Lennie wanted her testimony, and she desperately wanted to be present, needed to share her recording with the department brass so they would know the real Leonard Hunley. She trembled as she was being booked, watching with trepidation as her purse was tossed onto the counter. She felt violated as a male officer pulled it open, dumping out the contents for everyone to see.

"Weeelll…," the officer began, picking up the Dictaphone. "What do we have here?"

"I found it in the trash," Bri stated a little too quickly.

"Of course," he scoffed, noting the tiny label on the lower left corner identifying it as being the property of the LACoFD Arson Unit. "The fire department tosses these babies out all the time. I can only imagine what a prostitute was planning to do with it," he smirked, giving her a knowing wink. He reached beneath the desk, withdrawing a small Banker's box, and labeled it with her name and case number, while Bri was escorted to the awaiting jail cell by a rough female officer.

"I wanna make my phone call!" Bri cried out over her shoulder, unsure if Lennie would be willing to bail her out, but having no one else to call.

"You'll get it," the booking officer responded, continuing to rifle through the rest of her belongings. He swiped the inside of the purse with his hand, ensuring that nothing was left inside.

Bri craned her neck, trying her best to see what was happening to her most precious possession, the only evidence of the truth behind the façade Lennie portrayed to the public. When she didn't see it, she felt a brief reprieve from the mixture of anger and fear. The cassette was tucked away safely in its hiding spot. "I wanna lawyer!" She screeched, turning around just as the metal door of the jail cell clanked shut.

Back at the front desk, the booking officer returned the few items of make-up and a small amount of money into the beige macramé purse. He then checked through the garments stuffed into the worn out backpack. Finding nothing unusual, he placed both the purse and the backpack into the box. One item remained on the counter, the Dictaphone. He stared at it as he picked up the telephone, calling for a police department investigator. He couldn't wait to tell the guy what he had found among the meager possessions of a prostitute.

E!

Leonard Hunley smiled smugly at the pile of documentation on his desk. Pouring through the pages of Sam Bennett's investigation of Mike Stoker, he felt confident that he had more than enough to support the allegations. He had done what he could to lead his investigator toward the conclusion of Mike's guilt - an idea the inexperienced man had seemed all too ready to accept. Hunley really didn't want to have Bri testify, knowing that her character was less than upstanding. However, an eyewitness account would be difficult to discredit, even if the eyes that witnessed the event were those of a prostitute.

Leonard had been disappointed that Bri had not been able to record Mike's voice. However, he knew she would still be willing to testify because he had agreed to pay her a substantial amount of money for her eye witness account. Of course, he had no intention of giving her the cash. He knew she had no way of forcing him to pay up without admitting to the police that she was exchanging sex for money. He snickered to himself, proud of the brilliance of his plan. Not only had she satisfied his sexual fetishes, she was going to help him destroy Hank Stanley by causing a terrific scandal involving the fire captain's engineer. The perfect reputation of Michael Stoker would soon be scarred by the mayhem that only prostitutes and arson could cause a firefighter. And if the hearing went as planned, Mike Stoker would be occupying a jail cell by the end of the following day.

He looked at the clock on his wall, huffing in disgust at what he had to do next. He needed to head over to Goodwill before he picked up Bri. After all, his star witness needed to appear more like a young woman rather than a sex worker advertising her wares. He locked his office door, calling out to Sam as he walked down the hallway.

"Heading out early, Sam. See you in the morning."

Inside his office, Sam sat staring at the doodle-covered notepad on his desk. He was going over the evidence in his mind, and the connection between the fires and Mike Stoker seemed a little too convenient. In his heart, he really didn't believe the young man would commit the crimes, but the circumstantial evidence was compelling. He also replayed the harsh exchange of verbal barbs between Captain Hank Stanley and Assistant Chief Leonard Hunley. As long as he lived, he would never forget the fire in Hank's eyes during that confrontation, and he knew that the angry words had been about more than just Engineer Stoker, but he didn't know what.

"Alright, see ya," the younger man commented, already dreading the upcoming hearing.

Just as Hunley reached the bottom step of the staircase, the switchboard operator called out to him. "I've got a call for you, Mr. Hunley. Do you want to take it?"

Leonard knew that if he took the call, he wouldn't make it to Goodwill before the thrift store closed. He didn't want to spend any more money on Bri than was absolutely necessary, so buying new clothes for her was not an acceptable alternative. He waved off the call, giving directions to the switchboard operator.

"Nah, send it to Sam."

"Yes, sir."

On the other end of the line, Bri was startled by the voice that answered the phone.

"Hello, Samford Bennett here."

"Oh… Uh… I need to speak to Leonard Hunley, please?" Bri responded, her voice shaky.

"I'm sorry, but he's gone for the day. May I help you?"

Bri's mind flashed back to one of the last conversations she had shared with Alexia. Hadn't her friend told her that Samford Bennett wanted to talk to her? She quickly weighed her options, not liking the way the odds seemed to be stacked against her. She was using up her one and only telephone call. She wasn't going to be able to meet Lennie at the appointed place and time. She probably wasn't going to be able to share her recording at Mike's hearing, and therefore, she knew she had nothing left to lose.

"Um… Th-this is Brianna Olivier," she explained, still using her street name. Um, Lex-Alexia Lopez said you wanted to talk to me," she squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her fingers into her forehead. If this didn't work, she was a dead woman. Then again, a part of her had died when she had lost her baby at the hands of Leonard Hunley.

In his office, Sam sat up straighter in his chair. Why was Brianna Olivier calling, and why had she asked to speak to his boss? He licked his lips, then responded. "Oh, Miss Olivier… Yes, I have been wanting to talk to you. Could you come to my office?"

"Humph," she muttered. "Not unless you come post bail."

"Excuse me?"

Bri rolled her eyes. Did she have to spell it out to him? "I'm in jail, Mr. Bennett. I got picked up for… Um, for… Well, you know," she stammered, not liking the looks the female officer was giving her from the opposite side of the desk.

"Which jail are you in? I'll come to you," he stated, already pulling open a desk drawer to retrieve a fresh notebook.

"Metro."

"Alright. I'll come on down, now. Thank you for calling me, Bri."

Bri handed the telephone back to the officer, wondering if she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life.

"Alright, I'll need a statement from you," the officer said.

"I lawyered up. I ain't gonna give you no statement until my lawyer gets here," she smarted back.

"He's here," came a masculine voice from behind her.

Bri spun around to see a handsome, well-dressed man holding a brief case. "I'd like to meet with my client, please," the gentleman told the officer, poising his business card between his first two fingers.

The officer lifted her eyebrows in surprise. Rarely did a court-appointed attorney look or behave as professional as this man. "Um, okay, yes sir. Follow me, please."

Bri was led away by the officer, hearing the footsteps of her attorney walking behind them. The officer escorted them to a room at the end of the hallway. She flipped on the light switch, revealing a sparsely decorated room with bare, dingy, white walls. "I'll come back and get her when you're done. Just use the phone on the wall and dial zero."

"Yes, ma'am," Barney stated, placing his briefcase on the table and taking a seat. "Please, sit down, Miss Olivier," he directed, pointing to the opposite side of the table.

"Who the hell are you?"

Barney chuckled at the statement. "You don't mince words, do you?"

Bri crossed her arms, cocking her head to one side. She trusted no one, especially not a sarcastic man in a fancy suit.

"My name is Barney Olsen, and I'm your attorney."

"Yea, right. I just got here. I know how this works. I don't see a lawyer until 5 minutes before I see the judge," she commented, eyeing the attorney's expensive attire, "and nobody ever wears clothes like that."

Barney sat back in his seat, smiling at the sassy prostitute. He admired her spunkiness. "I understand, Miss Olivier. Unfortunately, that's usually how these things go down… But not today." He leaned forward, lacing his fingers together in front of him, and staring directly into her eyes. He loved to create dramatic effects whenever he could, a technique that had served him well in high profile cases. "Look, I'm going to level with you. I have reason to believe that you're planning on committing perjury at Mike Stoker's hearing tomorrow morning."

Bri's heart leaped into her throat. When she heard her attorney mention the name Stoker, she became anxious. "Um…"

"It means that I believe you're planning on lying under oath," Barney explained.

The prostitute's round brown eyes widened and her eyebrows flew into her hairline. "No, no I'm NOT planning on lying. I'm planning on telling the TRUTH!"

Barney continued toying with her. "Do you even know what the truth is? I believe Mr. Stoker is innocent."

Thick silence hung in the room, and Bri felt as if the air was growing heavier and heavier, making it difficult for her to breathe. She looked around at the table, her eyes following the grainy pattern in the wood as a way of avoiding the piercing eyes of the man claiming to be her attorney. Finally, after a few uncomfortable moments, she looked up at the man who sat across from her. "So do I."

Barney narrowed his eyes at her, scrutinizing her body language. "Then why are you planning to tell the personnel board that he's guilty?" His experience had taught him to recognize when a person was lying. Bri seemed to be telling the truth.

"I never said that I was gonna testify that Michael was guilty. I said that I was gonna tell the truth… If I get out of here in time."

"And if you don't?" Barney asked.

"Then it'll all be ruined, and that sick bastard will get away with what he did to me and my baby," she mumbled, looking down into her lap, feeling defeated.

"Something tells me you aren't talking about Mr. Stoker, are you?"

Bri shook her head, fidgeting in her seat. When she looked back up, she saw concern in Barney's green eyes. "Whose lawyer are you, anyway? Mine or Michael's? You don't seem too concerned about me, just him."

"I'm representing you both," Barney stated, knowing that if he expected honesty from Bri, then he had to be completely honest himself.

"You allowed to do that?"

"I know what you're thinking, Miss Olivier, and normally you'd be right. However, Michael's case is just a personnel board hearing. You're accused of a criminal act."

Bri considered carefully what he was telling her. She wasn't sure she believed him, but trusting any man had been difficult for her for as long as she could remember. Unfortunately, she had no other choice. Her throat felt dry, and she coughed into her hand. "You, ah… Ahua, you won't tell nobody what I tell you?"

Barney shook his head. "It's called attorney/client privileges. I need to know the truth so I can represent you to the best of my ability. And, I owe Mr. Stoker that same respect." He watched as she scraped her teeth across her chapped dry lips. He was getting through to her, and he knew it. "Would you like something to drink?"

She nodded, unable to utter a single word. So many times she had wanted to trust, and so many times she had been disappointed. Now she was being asked to trust again, but could she? Tears pooled along her lower lids as she heard Barney's chair scraping along the floor. His footsteps echoed within the empty room as he moved to the telephone on the wall.

"Yes, this is Barney Olsen. I need a guard to come back to the interview room, please." After a pause, he continued. "Thank you." He looked back over his shoulder at the waif of a girl he had arranged to defend. "Are you hungry?"

That comment struck a nerve with Bri. Yes, she was hungry, but she hated to admit that to someone as wealthy and successful as Barney Olsen. Besides, if he got her food, she might owe him something in return. Slowly she shook her head, her tears finally spilling onto her cheeks.

He stood near the doorway, watching his client's behavior, studying the woman. Gone was the spunky, street-smart hooker with her sassy mouth and hardened eyes. Present was a shattered vessel, a young woman who had known far more than her fair share of heart-ache. Weeping openly, she appeared to curl inside herself, her will to go on dissolving amid her hot tears. The picture before him tugged at the man's heartstrings. Beneath his cocky exterior, he still had the heart of a fireman, a rescuer. And Bri needed rescuing in the worst possible way.

A gentle knock on the door pulled Barney's attention away from his client. He opened the door, seeing the female guard standing in the hallway. In spite of Bri's negative reaction to food, he knew she needed nourishment. "We need more time, but she needs a meal and something to drink. Will you get her a tray, please?"

"We don't serve dinner for another two hours. She can eat with everybody else," the officer snarled.

Barney swallowed back the remark that he wanted to hurl at the insensitive officer. Reaching into his back pocket, he withdrew his wallet. He pulled out a few bills, passing them through the open doorway. "Fine. Then I would like a couple of tacos from the stand across the street, and a coke brought back here for MY consumption. And a couple of glasses of water, in the meantime. Thank you," he spat out, closing the door behind him, not allowing the officer to protest.

Bri swiped her fingers beneath her eyes, a practice that normally would have smeared her make-up, but she hadn't applied any today. She felt Barney's presence as he once again took his seat across from her. "Okay, Bri. I have food and drink coming soon so you'll be more comfortable."

A quick knock on the door interrupted his next statement. A guard had returned with two cups of water. Quickly, she set the requested glasses on the table and hastily exited the room. Barney waited for her to close the door completely before he picked back up where he left off. "Alright, Brianna, it's just you and me. Take a drink of the water, and then I want you to start from the beginning."

E!

Sam Bennett drove up to the Los Angeles Metro jail, and stepped out of his car. He stretched his arms over his head, hating the long drive during rush hour traffic. With hurried long strides, he made his way up the steps and into the older beige stone complex. He stepped up to the counter, hearing a familiar voice call out his name.

"Sam Bennett, how are you?"

Sam turned around, extending his hand and accepting the proffered hand of a man he hadn't seen in several weeks. "Hi, Ron, how's the investigating business?"

"Well now, I guess I could ask you the same thing," Lieutenant Ron Crockett chuckled, making reference to the arson investigator's profession.

"I'm here to speak to one of your prisoners, Miss Brianna Olivier."

Ron wrinkled his forehead. "I see. Well, she's with her attorney right now."

"Um, excuse me, Lieutenant?" A female voice approached. "I'm about to take Mr. Olsen the food he requested. I can let him know that the arson investigator is here," she offered, recognizing Sam from the recent rash of suspicious fires.

"Are we running a jail, or a damn restaurant?" Lieutenant Crockett questioned, annoyed by what he was seeing.

"Well, it's for Mr. Olsen," the officer replied, sheepishly.

"Alright," Ron said, waving off the remark with a flip of his hand. "Let Olsen know that Sam Bennett is here and needs to speak with Miss Olivier, too."

"Yes sir," she replied, heading down the hallway.

"You know the booking officer found something interesting when he was going through Miss Olivier's belongings. You might want to take a look at it," Crockett announced, turning towards his office. "Let me show you."

Sam considered the possibilities of what the officer had found while he followed the detective into his office. What he saw on Crockett's desk made his eyes bug out of his head. "What the hell?"

"Yea, I was wondering the same thing," Crockett commented, watching as Sam picked up the Dictaphone. "Said she found it in the trash."

"Trash? These are new," Sam stated, recognizing the recorder as identical to the device he used for his dictation. "We just got these a couple of months ago. She didn't find it in the trash. She stole it!"

"Hey, we'll charge her for that, too. She's running up quite a tab with us here at the Metro," he commented. When he saw the faraway look in Sam's eyes, he knew something else was going on. "Sam? Talk to me, man. What're you thinking?"

Sam shook his head, not yet ready to tell his detective friend what was really going through his mind. "Oh, just stunned, I guess. I'll definitely see what she has to say about this," he said, placing the Dictaphone back on the Lieutenant's desk, knowing that it was now considered evidence. "I'll just wait out here for my turn to question her."

Just as Sam took a seat, the officer who had taken the food down the hall earlier returned empty-handed, motioning for Sam to follow her. "They want you to come join them in the interrogation room," she explained, leading the arson investigator to the room where Bri and her attorney were meeting.

Sam walked into the room, stunned by the sight before him. A well-dressed professional man with an expensive briefcase sat on one side of the table, and a crying haggard looking young woman with one knee pulled up to her chest sat in the chair on the opposite side. The way she was hungrily devouring a taco, reminded Sam of a frightened stray animal. He gulped as he pulled a chair from along the wall, positioning it near the end of the table. "I'm Samford Bennett, arson investigator. I'm assuming you're Brianna Olivier, right?"

Bri nodded her head, picking up the coke and sipping it.

"And you are…?" Sam asked, looking at the other man, extending his hand.

"Barney Olsen. I'm representing Miss Olivier on the prostitution charges… Among other things," Barney mumbled, hoping his dangling comment would open the door for a conversation about Mike Stoker's case.

"THE Barney Olsen?" Sam inquired, sitting down. "Are you the guy who used to be a fireman, then went to law school?" Sam had heard Barney's named mentioned before around headquarters. When Barney dipped his head in confirmation, Sam continued. "Well, this is ironic. You're a former fireman, and you're representing a woman who stole equipment from the Arson Unit," he smiled, feeling goosebumps pop up along his forearms. This had to be more than coincidental.

"I didn't steal nothing," Bri spoke up, finishing her meal.

Barney raised his hand to calm his client. "Let me handle this for you," he reassured her. Turning back to Sam, he continued. "As she said, my client hasn't stolen anything."

"Then how did a Dictaphone from the Arson Unit end up in your purse?"

"Sam, she would only be guilty of theft if she took an item without the knowledge or permission of the owner." Barney gave the investigator a knowing smile. "We can and will prove that the item to which you are referring was PROVIDED to her by a person in a position of power to aid in the commission of a criminal act." He leaned back, crossing an ankle over the opposite knee. "But, you wanted to speak to her about a certain personnel hearing tomorrow, am I right?"

"Um… That's right," Sam said, feeling what little loyalty to his boss he had left being further eroded. Was that the person in power to whom Barney was referring? Was that why Bri had called headquarters asking for the fire marshall? The puzzle pieces were beginning to fit together a little better.

"And she prefers that you interview her in the presence of her attorney. So," Barney waved his hand, urging the nervous investigator to continue. "Go ahead."

"Okay…," Sam shifted his position so as to face Bri, and pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket. He cleared his throat in search of his voice. "Ahem… Miss Olivier, I have spoken to your roommate, Alexia Lopez. She tells me that you might have information that would prove Mr. Stoker is innocent of the arson allegations. Is that true?"

"What did she tell you?" Bri asked, unsure of how much to tell the investigator.

"Just that someone tried to kill you. Was it Mike Stoker?" Sam asked, getting straight to the point.

Bri dropped her eyes downward, taking another sip of her coke while she contemplated her response. "Is that what you think?"

"It doesn't matter what I think, Bri. The only thing that matters is the truth. Was the man who tried to kill you Mike Stoker?"

Bri felt like the walls were closing in on her. This was not going as planned. She scrubbed her face with her open palms, making her red swollen eyes even more irritated. She reached for a napkin from the stack she had gotten with her tacos, using it to dry her eyes and blow her nose. Her lips were trembling as she fought to tell Sam as much truth as she could without putting herself in danger. Should she tell Lennie's investigator the truth? Could Barney protect her? Then the reality of her situation began to sink in. She was a dead woman, either way. She wet her lips, finding her voice was merely a hoarse whisper.

"No," she croaked out. "It wasn't Mike. He didn't do it."

Sam and Barney exchanged worried looks. Barney saw how his client was struggling, and decided to speak on her behalf.

"Mr. Bennett, was that the answer you were anticipating?"

Sam thought for a long moment, leaning back in his chair. "Actually, yes. After talking with Miss Lopez, and reviewing the evidence, I don't think Mike Stoker is guilty of anything other than being a true fireman, and all around nice guy, who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"And yet you're planning on presenting evidence to the contrary at tomorrow's hearing?" Barney asked, feeling right at home with his line of questioning.

"I'm obligated to present the findings of my investigation. It's up to the department brass to determine guilt or innocence."

Barney smiled, knowingly. "I see," he began, relaxing against the back of his seat. He cut his eyes over at Bri who was still crying, then back to the arson investigator. "In that case, Mr. Bennett, I believe we'll be ready to counter any evidence you may present. In fact," he gave his client a slight wink. "We've got a shocker for you and your boss tomorrow. So, bring your 'A' game to the hearing," he commented. "You're gonna need it."

"Okay," the investigator stated, moving along with his interview. Over the next few minutes he asked Bri a series of questions related to the fires Mike Stoker was alleged to have started. He was frustrated by her short curt answers, but she was confirming his suspicions. Mike Stoker most likely wasn't the arsonist Sam had first believed him to be. But if it wasn't Mike who set the fires, then who was it? Sam replaced the pen in his shirt pocket, then stood up to leave. "I'm not the enemy you think I am," he stated to both of them. "You'll see… And I look forward to doing my part in locking up the person who harmed you, Miss Olivier."

Bri pulled both knees up to her chest, resting her face against them while her attorney walked the investigator to the door. She squeezed her eyes shut as she heard Sam leave, and the sound of Barney's footsteps returning to the table. The attorney sat back down across from Bri. "Okay, he's gone. Now, I need to listen to that recording before we go into the hearing tomorrow." When Bri didn't look up, he continued. "Bri, tomorrow WILL be difficult, but you can do it. And I assure you that I WILL put just as much effort into defending you as I'm giving Mike Stoker, alright?"

Bri continued staring into her lap; her only response was a slight nod.

"Okay… You need to get some rest. I'm going to go talk to a couple of officers, and see if they found that recording. With any luck, it never got processed. I know that the right thing to do is to take what I know to the Fire Chief. However, I don't want to give Hunley the chance to come up with some plausible explanation. I'd rather beat him at his own game."

Bri rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "Please don't leave me here," she begged.

Barney looked at the pitiful woman sitting across from him. His heart ached for her, especially what she had endured at the hands of Leonard Hunley. He realized that he couldn't allow her to attend the hearing in her present condition. "I'm going to see if I can get you released, but not until I find a safe place for you to stay tonight. That might mean you have to stay here. You're safer in here," he said, tapping his finger on the wooden table, "than out there. He'll be looking for you."

She nodded her head, accepting her fate for the evening. Barney was right. Leonard Hunley would be looking for her, and Bri knew she didn't want him to find her.

"Let me see what I can do, Bri. Meanwhile, you'll have to go back to the holding cell."

E!

Leonard Hunley drove by the bus stop for the fifth time in the last hour. She wasn't there, and his ire was reaching the boiling point. He had embarrassed himself by scrounging through bins of used women's clothing at Goodwill in order to find a garment for her to wear to the hearing tomorrow. Now she was nowhere to be found. He slammed his hands against the steering wheel as he drove past the empty bus stop one last time. "Damn it! You better show up for the hearing tomorrow, or you'll be sorry… Filthy whore!"

E!

Barney walked down the hallway, staying behind the officer who was escorting his client back to her jail cell. He quickly made the turn towards the detective offices, having confirmed that Lieutenant Ronald Crockett was the man he needed to speak to. When he knocked on the appropriate office door, he was surprised to hear a voice he now recognized coming from inside the detective's office. When he heard the gruff voice of the Lieutenant, he pushed against the door with his briefcase.

"Well, we meet again, Sam," the attorney commented.

"I just needed to verify that the Dictaphone was ours," the fire investigator responded.

"I guess there's no need for introductions," Ron chuckled, sensing the tension between the other two men. "I've known Sam for a while, Barney. He's one of the good ones so we can trust him to do the right thing." Crockett picked up the Dictaphone from his desk, pressing the button to open the empty compartment that should have held a cassette. "It's empty. Either of you know why she had this, or how she got it?" When neither man responded to his question, Ron sat down behind his desk. "Alright, what's really going on here?"

E!

At The Wellhouse, Beverly sat on the empty bed across from Lexi. She was so proud of the progress the young woman had made over the last few weeks, and knew in her heart that Alexia Lopez would be one of her success stories. Sadly, the bed on which she sat had once been occupied by a young woman who had thrown away her chance at escape from sex trafficking. Bri wasn't the first, and she wouldn't be the last woman who failed to uphold her agreement to stay away from those who enslaved her. Beverly refused to dwell on those she had not been able to save, and chose to celebrate with those she had helped release from their bonds.

"Are you going to come over for the cookout?" Alexia asked, packing up the last of her pictures into a box. Tomorrow morning, she would be saying goodbye to her temporary residence. It had been over five years since she had spent the night in her own house, and she couldn't wait to truly go home.

Beverly blushed, thinking about the young woman's handsome brother. Marco had called earlier to invite her over for a celebration on Friday evening. In her mind, it was like a second date, even though she knew the invitation had been extended due to her role in helping Alexia Lopez start to regain her life. Still, she was excited to see him again, and hoped that they might enjoy another comfortable evening in each other's company.

"Yes, I am. I wouldn't miss it for the world," the counselor said, standing up and walking over to the place where Alexia stood. She enveloped the younger woman in an embrace. "I'm so proud of you, Lexi. You've made remarkable progress in a short time. You really are ready to regain control of your life." She released the hug, pulling back to look at the younger woman.

"I'm glad you'll be there. It means a lot to me," Alexia commented, grinning widely. She turned away from Beverly, pushing the box aside and sitting down on the bed. "And I know Marco will be glad to have you there."

Beverly couldn't stop the blush she felt reddening her features. "Well… The celebration is for you, but I won't mind seeing him again," she giggled, enjoying the girly conversation she had been denied in her younger years.

"He really likes you a lot. He even calls you Bev," Alexia said shyly. "It's good to see him happy."

"Happiness is good for everyone," Beverly announced, and both women fell silent. They hoped that another man from Station 51 would enjoy a little happiness after tomorrow.

E!

In his apartment, Mike plugged up the iron in his laundry room. His white dress shirt was in need of a fresh pressing. As he smoothed out the wrinkles with steam, his mind turned to the hearing that was only hours away. He replayed his conversation with Barney over and over in his mind. He couldn't believe all that had happened in the last few hours. First, he had learned that Bri had been formulating a plan for taking down Hunley, not Mike. As a result of that knowledge, Barney and Mike had hatched a plan that would include his friends at Station 51. Marco had agreed to bail Bri out of jail. He was the obvious choice. Since Bri had been Alexia's friend and roommate, the action would not seem suspicious. Barney had given Marco the money, knowing that he could afford it more than a fireman. Bri would be safe staying with Marco at his apartment overnight. Marco had been more than happy to assist as it offered him a way to help pay Mike back for his help with Alexia. Chet had been brought into the plan and was talking to Caroline about loaning Bri a dress and shoes for the hearing tomorrow. Caroline had even agreed to assist her with her make-up and hair.

Mike considered how lucky he was to have his friends' support. Each one of his shiftmates, and a few other friends like Mrs. Lopez and Caroline Marks, were planning on being at the hearing tomorrow to show their belief in his innocence. He also had to admit to himself that he was more than a little excited to see Alexia in the morning. Barney had assured Mike that Alexia's testimony most likely wouldn't be necessary, although the attorney had not explained the details of why. Mike knew it involved Bri and her plan against Hunley, otherwise, there would have been no need to do so much to help out the young woman. Bri was turning out to be a mystery, but in a good way. He hoped that she and Alexia would be able to mend their friendship soon.

Mike hung up his dress shirt, then quickly ran the iron over his tie. He wanted to look his best at the hearing. Now he just hoped that he could get enough sleep to get rid of the dark circles underneath his eyes. He wanted this nightmare to be over so he could get back to work and get on with his life.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Mike's alarm clock began to buzz, but the noise didn't have to awaken the engineer. He had been tossing and turning all night long, and was already sitting on the edge of the bed when the alarm sounded. He slapped the top of the clock, silencing the annoying sound. Stretching his arms over his head, he inhaled deeply in an effort to chase away the fatigue he was already feeling. He stood up, padding across the room to his bathroom to begin his morning routine.

Half an hour later, he walked into his kitchen to start a pot of coffee. His stomach rumbled, protesting the emptiness, but he was too worried to eat. He didn't want to have to rush out of the hearing hoping to make it to the bathroom in time. He dropped a couple of slices of bread into his toaster, hoping that dry toast would settle the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach.

It took him another half hour to eat the toast, washing it down with a cup of black coffee. Still feeling unsure about the stability of his digestive system, he decided he would have to stop at the corner market and pick up a Sprite on his way to the hearing, hoping the clear soda would keep everything settled until after the hearing. He straightened his tie, feeling the tight Windsor knot threatening to choke him. He decided to leave early, allowing him enough time to run by the police station before he went over to headquarters. He had been instructed to meet with Lieutenant Crockett for a few minutes prior to meeting with his attorney. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew he had to follow Barney Olsen's instructions. The former fireman had sounded very sure of his plan when he telephoned Mike the previous night, and Mike didn't want to do anything to interfere with the plan that would hopefully get him back to work as soon as possible.

E!

Across town, Marco opened his bedroom door, expecting to see Bri curled up asleep on his sofa. Even though he had begged her to sleep in his comfortable bed, she had refused. Because of his sister, he had learned a lot about the behavior of women in her situation, and he feared that she felt undeserving of a good night's sleep. He wondered if perhaps Beverly had felt the same way when she first escaped the business. Did she still feel undeserving of the simple comforts of life?

What he saw when he walked into the living room, made him catch his breath. She was gone. The blanket had been neatly folded and placed on top of the pillow. He walked past the unoccupied bathroom, then into the kitchen. There was no sign of her.

"Damn it, Bri," he mumbled to himself, angry at the young woman. "Don't do this to Mike!"

As he stood in his living room, staring at the empty spot on his sofa, he heard his back door open. Spinning around, he saw Bri walking into the apartment. "I'm sorry, did I wake you when I went out?" She asked, closing the door behind her.

"No, no, you didn't. I was just kind of worried about you. I was afraid you had changed your mind," he said, gesturing to the folded blanket.

"About testifying at the hearing? Not a chance, Marco." She stepped into his kitchen, placing an empty glass into the sink. "I just needed a little fresh air and a drink of water. The morning is always the most peaceful time of the day. I couldn't sleep, anyway." She quickly spun around, her hand flying to her mouth to cover her gasp. "Ohmygod, I'm so sorry."

"For what?" He asked, confused by her sudden change in behavior.

"I didn't think about how it might look to your neighbors. I'm sorry. I really am."

Marco could see her thin arms beginning to tremble in fear. "Whoa, slow down. What are you apologizing for? I don't understand."

"Your neighbors! If they saw me, they'll think you… Um, you know… That you hired me for the night. I don't want to mess up your reputation, Marco," she said softly, her eyes misting over. "I should've been more careful."

Marco watched her drop her gaze, his heart aching for her. Was this the life Alexia and Beverly had endured? In the pit of his soul, he knew it was, but he couldn't stand here and watch her weeping when there was no reason to. He walked over to her, careful not to invade her space or touch her. "Bri… Bri, please look at me."

Her dark eyes looked upwards, but she seemed unable to make direct eye contact with him. She looked over his shoulder as she wiped her face with her hands. Marco pulled a paper towel off the roll sitting on his counter and handed it to her.

"Bri, who I allow to stay in MY apartment is MY choice. I chose to allow you to stay here, and I don't care what they might think or say. However, I know them. I doubt that they saw you, and even if they did, I doubt they would care. I certainly don't. You are a grown woman, and if you want to sit out on my balcony and watch the sun come up, then what's the problem? I told you last night to make yourself at home, and I meant it."

Bri felt her lower lip begin to tremble. No one had ever said anything so nice to her in her entire life. A wave of jealousy washed over her, and she thought about how lucky Alexia was to have a family that still loved her, especially a brother as warm and protective as Marco. Bri longed to have a family, people to welcome her back from the dark place where she had existed for so many years. She pushed the jealousy aside, drying her face with the paper towel he had handed her.

"Atta girl," he said with a smile. "Now, you were saying you didn't sleep well?"

She nodded her head. "No, I didn't. I mean, the couch was comfortable and all… I just couldn't stop thinking about today."

"I understand. Why don't you go ahead and get your shower while I cook us something to eat. Chet and Caroline should be here soon," Marco commented, feeling relieved. "I'll get you my robe to wear until they get here with your clothes."

"Will you let me wash the dishes?" Bri asked; she hated feeling like a charity case, even though that's exactly what she was and she knew it.

"We'll see. Dirty dishes are the least of my concerns right now," he replied, heading down the hallway to his bedroom. "There's soap and shampoo in the bathroom, but they may not smell very feminine, I'm afraid."

"Right now, I don't smell very feminine," she said, attempting a little humor to lighten her mood. "Just being clean will be great. Do you know what Caroline is bringing me to wear?"

"She mentioned to Chet that she had a sundress and sweater that she bought while she was pregnant, but she never lost enough weight to fit into it," Marco called out, pulling his robe out of his closet. "It's a size larger than what you said you needed, but she said she thinks it'll work."

"Uh-oh…"

"What? What's wrong?" He asked, walking back into the hallway, handing her his robe.

"Um," she accepted the garment, staring down at the raggedy jeans she was wearing that covered her legs, then back up at her host. "You got an extra razor?"

"No, but I'll put a fresh blade in it for you," he said with a smile.

As soon as Marco had everything set up for Bri in the bathroom, he hurried to the kitchen to begin breakfast. It was nearly seven o'clock, and he still had to get ready himself, pick up his mother and Antonio, and then head over to The Wellhouse. He was so happy to be bringing Alexia home today, yet his heart was still heavy as he dreaded the hearing. Mike had tried to assure him that everything would be alright, but Marco had been able to hear the worry in the engineer's voice. He said a silent prayer as he prepared a couple of breakfast burritos for himself and Bri.

Bri exited the bathroom, wrapped up in Marco's robe, her damp hair clinging slightly to her neck. She inhaled the aroma of the scrambled eggs and peppers, and hoped that her nervous stomach would accept the food. "Mmmm, that smells delicious," she said, finally allowing a smile to decorate her face as she entered the kitchen.

Marco placed their plates on the kitchen table, returning her smile. "I thought you might like a good homemade breakfast." He poured them both a cup of coffee before returning to the table. "It reminds me of the breakfasts I had when I was a kid." He watched as a shadow crossed her face, and he wondered what kind of childhood she must have endured. "I'm sorry," he said, pulling out her chair. "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories for you."

"You didn't. I was just thinking about how great it would be to have a home and a family, you know?"

"Yes, I know," he said, reaching out to take her hand before saying grace. It had always been a custom in his family, but he never considered that Bri may not understand the routine. He held his hand open, waiting for her to place her hand in his. He saw her hesitation, and was about to pull his hand back when she responded. He bowed his head and began to pray. He thanked God for the food, but continued on requesting divine intervention for the outcome of the hearing. Finally, he requested blessings upon all of those he held dear, and he included Bri in the request. With a gentle squeeze, he ended the prayer with amen, never looking over at his guest. He had heard her sniffle and felt her fingers quivering. He didn't need to look at her to know she was crying. He just hoped that she understood how important she was, not just to Mike today at the hearing, but to Alexia and the rest of the Lopez family. She was Alexia's friend, and that meant that she was a member of the extended Lopez family, even if she didn't know it yet.

While Marco was getting ready, Bri decided to wash their breakfast dishes, wanting to feel useful and to repay Marco for his kindness in some small way. A knock on the door startled her, and she walked over to peek out of the peep hole before opening the door. Marco had described Chet and Caroline to her in case the couple arrived before he was ready. When she saw a mustached man with curly hair, she opened up the door.

"Hi, um, Marco's getting ready," she said, stepping aside for the couple to enter. The first thing that caught her eye was the pretty dress draped over the woman's arm.

"You must be Bri," Caroline acknowledged, stepping through the doorway ahead of Chet. "I'm Caroline and this is Chet."

"Hi," Bri commented, curling her dark hair behind her ear. She felt uncomfortable standing in Marco's living room wearing his robe.

Caroline sensed her uneasiness, and spoke up. "Okay, why don't we sit down at the table and go ahead and do your make-up? I don't want to get any powder on the dress since it's a light color."

Caroline draped the dress over the back of the sofa where Bri had attempted to sleep the night before. Bri's eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "Oh, it's so pretty." She saw the tags flutter, proving that the dress had never been worn before. Her heart leaped into her throat, realizing that she was going to get her wish. She was going to have something new to wear at the hearing. She thought about how surprised Lennie would be when he saw her walk in, wearing a new dress.

"I loved it when I saw it, and it was marked down to half-price for the end of the season. I was pregnant, but assumed I'd be able to wear it as soon as I had my baby. I didn't realize that my shape wouldn't be quite the same afterwards," Caroline laughed, using her hand to gesture for Bri to take a seat. "So, I hope you can wear it. I'd like to see someone be able to use it."

Bri ran her fingers lightly across the polyester material. It felt so soft beneath her fingertips. The yellow background was accentuated with large white flowers with blue dots in their centers. Caroline watched the young woman who seemed so mesmerized by the simple garment, and realized just how little Bri had to call her own. She exchanged a sympathetic look with her fiancé as she dropped the navy blue sandals down beside the sofa.

Chet set the small cosmetics case on the kitchen table before returning to the living room, turning on the television set and taking a seat in Marco's recliner. "I think I'll just watch a little TV while you girls get all gussied up."

"Gussied up?" Marco commented with a smirk as he walked down the hallway, having overheard his best friend's comment. "Where'd you learn to talk like that, amigo?"

"Are you makin' fun o' me, Marco?" Chet grinned, thankful to no longer be the only male in the room. His gratefulness was short lived when he saw Marco holding his car keys in his hand.

"No, of course not. You just reminded me of Festus from Gunsmoke," he laughed, shaking his head. "I've got to head out. Any questions about what to do?"

"Nooo, we're jus' gon' wait right 'ere fer Ron an' 'en head on down 'ere ta headquarters soon as da ladies git all spiffied up," Chet remarked, using his best imitation of the famous Western character.

Marco shook his head in amusement as he walked out his front door, leaving the three remaining adults laughing loudly, releasing the tension that they were all feeling. They had a long morning ahead of them and everyone was feeling nervous about what was to come.

E!

Marco picked up his mother and nephew, then drove over to the DeSoto residence. The three Lopezes walked up to the front door, allowing Antonio to do the knocking. As soon as the youngster made their presence known, his uncle held his hand out. "Good job, Ant. Gimme five."

Antonio grinned widely at the antics of his Uncle Marco. He slapped the man's open palm just as Roy opened the door. Roy smiled down at the child waiting at his threshold.

"Hello, Antonio. There's a pretty little girl who's already here and ready to play with you," Roy announced, as the energetic youngster ran past him in search of his favorite playmate. Roy turned around welcoming the adults into his home. "Good morning, Mrs. Lopez, Marco."

"Please let Joanne know how much we appreciate this," Maria stated, pulling Roy into a warm embrace and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"I will. I guess I'll see you two soon, huh?" Roy offered, as the two Lopez adults turned to leave.

"Yes, is Johnny coming?" Marco asked, remembering the somber mood of their junior medic during their previous shift.

"Said he'd be there. I just hope he brings a better attitude with him," Roy mumbled, watching as Marco gave a faint smile of recognition. They were all wondering what might be wrong with Johnny.

E!

Johnny walked down his hallway, his hair still damp from his shower. Dressed in only his faded jeans, he felt the coolness of the morning air drift across his naked chest as he entered his kitchen for a fresh cup of coffee. He poured the steaming liquid into a thick brown mug then sat down on his sofa, staring at the navy blue photo album that held some of the best and worst memories of his life. He sipped the coffee, unwilling to open the reminder of his past pain. He needed to be in a positive frame of mind for Mike's sake.

He ran a hand through his hair, finger combing it while it dried. No matter how hard he tried to block the sights, smells, and sounds of his past, the intrusive thoughts had found a way to invade his mind and his dreams. Last night had been no different. He had awoken with his legs tangled in the sheets, his breathing coming in short pants as he felt unseen hands torturing him. The nightmares always ended the same way, with an explosion that catapulted him into consciousness. He leaned his head back against the sofa, exhaling loudly. He had to calm his nerves before he went down to headquarters. He was sure that Mike was anxious enough for all of them. The last thing the engineer needed was for his friend to be as upset as he was.

E!

Alexia sat in a rocking chair on the porch of The Wellhouse, waiting for her mother and brother to arrive. There were two small boxes stacked in the chair beside her, holding the possessions that she would be carrying home with her. Home – the word had never held such sweet meaning to her as it did today. She heard the front door open. Turning her head, she saw Beverly walking out with her purse on her shoulder.

"Mind if I wait with you?"

Alexia smiled back at the woman she had come to think of as a big sister. "Not at all," She said, removing the boxes from the other chair.

"I brought us a couple of sodas," she said, handing one can to the younger woman. "I thought it might help. Are you nervous?" Beverly asked.

Alexia accepted the proffered can, popping the tab off to drink the cool liquid. "Yea, kind of," she said, placing the metal ring into the ashtray on the small table between them.

"What makes you more nervous, testifying, or knowing that Bri is supposed to be there?" Neither woman was aware of what had happened the previous day.

Alexia was stunned at how accurately her counselor could read her. "About the same for both," she responded. "I still can't believe she's doing this. She used to be nice, my best friend, you know? Now it's like I don't even know her. Maybe I never did," she said, staring down at the can. She lifted it to her mouth as she waited for Beverly's response. She had grown accustomed to these impromptu counseling sessions. They were always helpful.

"I think maybe the two of you should talk when this is over."

Alexia shook her head. "No way. If she goes through with this… If she testifies against Michael, I'll NEVER speak to her again. She'll be dead to me."

Beverly wanted to say something to encourage Alexia, but she couldn't find the words. Nothing seemed appropriate at the moment, and so she chose to remain silent, sipping her soda while they waited for Marco to pick them up. After only a couple of minutes of silence, she saw the familiar burgundy sedan turn into the driveway. "Well, time to go, Lexi."

E!

Back in Marco's apartment, Bri stood staring at a face she barely recognized in the bathroom mirror.

"I think you look beautiful," Caroline stated. "I was afraid that my foundation would be too light for your complexion, but you have such pretty skin that you don't need any."

Bri continued looking at her reflection. "I didn't know how much better just a little make-up could be," she stated, turning her head from side to side. "I've always worn it heavy because it's what's expected, but this," she locked eyes with Caroline in the mirror. "This looks so nice."

"Good, I'm glad you like it. You are a pretty young woman, Bri. And I'm glad you've gotten off the streets. You have a bright future ahead of you. You just need to embrace it," Caroline said, picking up the brush and pulling it through Bri's dark shiny hair. "Now, let's get your hair pinned up in a barrette, and we'll be ready to get you dressed."

Walking out of the bathroom, they heard a new male voice talking to Chet. When they walked into the living room, Chet was talking to a man Bri recognized from her time in jail the previous day.

"Um, Lieutenant Crockett, this is my fiancée, Caroline Marks and this is Bri," Chet said, introducing detective Crockett.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Ron replied, shaking hands with Caroline before turning his attention to Bri. "Bri, are you ready for this? You can still change your mind."

"No," the younger woman replied. "I'm not changing my mind. I want to do this."

"No one is forcing you into it?" The detective asked, concerned for the young woman's welfare.

"No, I'm doing this because I want to do it, and it's the right thing to do. I've done a lot of bad things in my life. It's time I did something good."

"Alright, let's get you wired up. Caroline, if you'll come help me, I'd appreciate it," Ron said, not wanting to be alone with Bri while he connected the device to her. It would require that he see her partially naked which could put him in a compromising position. He was helping out his fireman friend who had been wrongly accused of dastardly deeds. He didn't want to be in a similar position.

Caroline picked up the dress, carrying it down the hallway to Marco's bedroom. It was bigger than the bathroom, and they would be able to maneuver around in it. Once inside, Ron pulled out the mechanism that would allow him to hear and record anything that Hunley might say to Bri if the fire marshall pulled her aside for a conversation before the hearing began. Everyone involved agreed that the more evidence they could acquire against Hunley, the better off Mike, and especially Bri, would be.

"Alright, if you'll loosen the robe just a bit, I'll try to be as discreet as possible connecting this to your bra." He felt his face blush as Bri quickly opened up the front of the robe wide enough to expose her cleavage, but keeping the tie cinched around her waist. Quickly, he clipped the tiny microphone to her white undergarment, then handed her the rest of the device. "Okay, now just let this wire run down to your waist, and clip this to your, uh, clothing," he instructed, glad that he didn't have to ask her to reveal any more of herself.

With Caroline's help, Bri twisted her torso enough to run the black wire down through the space between her breasts until the small box was hanging around her waist. She reached inside the robe, and clipped the device to her underwear.

"Okay, is it in position?" Ron asked.

"Yes."

"Alright, we need to test it. I'm going to go back down to the van that's parked outside. I want you to turn it on. When you see the red light come on, it's working and I should be able to hear everything you say. Don't worry about the battery. It'll last for several hours. So you can just turn it on and leave it on, or you can turn it off until you get there. But make sure it's on BEFORE you walk inside." He grinned at her. "And don't talk badly about me, alright?"

Bri smiled at his joke. "I won't. Thanks."

"You're welcome. And thank you for exonerating Mike, and helping us get the bad guy." He smiled at her again. "I'm gonna go out now. You two just keep talking and finish getting dressed. Once you are completely ready, speak to me directly so I can make sure that the microphone is picking up your voices."

"We will," Caroline said, opening the door for the Lieutenant. "Thank you." She closed the door, turning back around to see Bri running her fingers across the dress again. "I can't believe I'm going to wear a new dress." She looked up at Caroline. "I promise I'll take good care of it. I'll change just as quickly as I can when this is over so I can give it back to you."

Caroline knitted her eyebrows together in confusion. Bri didn't seem to understand that Caroline was giving the dress to her. "I can't wear it, Bri. I'm giving it to you. It's yours now, if you want it."

Bri's eyes seemed to sparkle for the first time in years. "For me? A new dress for me? One that I can keep?" She exclaimed, bouncing on her feet like a child on Christmas morning.

"Yes," Caroline responded, finally understanding why Bri had been so amazed by the garment. It was a nice dress that didn't come from a second-hand store, or a dumpster. It was an item that the young woman had been given without any expectations for sexual services in return. It was a gift. Caroline felt the backs of her eyes stinging when she realized that the dress she had just given Bri might be the first gift the young woman had ever received. Quickly, she helped Bri step into the dress and zipped it up. She then helped her position the matching navy blue sweater over her shoulders, buttoning it in the front. She watched in wonder as the young woman looked at herself in Marco's mirror, running her fingers down the front of the dress and smiling at her reflection.

"Okay, Lieutenant Crockett. She's dressed and ready to go," Caroline said, opening up the door for Bri. She followed the young woman down the hallway, happy when Chet gave out a low catcall whistle.

"Wow, you two look very pretty," he said, standing up. "Ready to roll?"

Caroline picked up her cosmetics case off the table while Bri stepped into the navy sandals to complete her outfit. "Let's do it."

Outside, Ron swiped at his misty eyes, then gave the trio a thumbs up as they exited Marco's apartment. He had overheard the excitement in Bri's voice when she found out that the dress she was wearing wasn't a borrowed garment. It was hers. When he saw her exit the apartment, he was pleased with the confidence he saw on her face and in her gait. She was feeling better about herself, and for that, he was truly grateful. Now he just hoped he could keep her safe from Hunley over the next couple of hours.

E!

Mike stepped into the waiting area outside the conference room. He glanced down at his watch, then back up at the empty corridor. He had hoped Barney would be here when he arrived, but he had arrived a little early. Nervously, he paced across the grey tiled floor, feeling as if time were both standing still and passing too quickly. He wanted this to be over, yet he dreaded the arrival of ten o'clock. The echo of footsteps coming towards him from the corridor caused him to spin around in time to see Barney waltz into the waiting area bringing an air of confidence with him. He had worn his best suite, and was decked out in his newest Rolex and diamond pinky ring.

"Hello, Mike. How did it go this morning?" Barney asked, strutting over to shake hands with his client.

"Fine, I guess. I just hope this works," the worried engineer commented.

"Oh, it will, it will. Is she here, yet?" He asked looking around the empty hallway.

As if in response to his question, the door opened again and the three Lopez adults and Beverly walked in. Mike swallowed hard when he saw Alexia. She looked so healthy, and… The word that came to his mind was pretty. She looked very pretty. He licked his lips as he headed over to speak to the group, never taking his eyes off of her. "Hello, everyone. Thanks for coming."

"Mike, you mean the world to us. We wouldn't miss this for anything. It's all going to be just fine," Maria said in her calming thickly accented voice. He saw the string of beads protruding from her closed fist, and knew that she had brought her rosary along. It gave him a sense of peace to know that while he was inside, facing hell itself, Maria would be in touch with Heaven on his behalf.

Marco and Beverly each took turns shaking Mike's hand and wishing him the best. They followed Maria over to a group of chairs lining the wall, leaving Alexia alone with Mike and Barney.

"Hello, Michael," the young woman said softly.

"Hi, thanks for coming. I just hope you don't have to actually go inside."

Barney watched the exchange between Alexia and Mike. He grinned knowingly at the couple. "Ahem," he said, reminding them of his presence. "Let's talk about what to expect."

E!

Leonard Hunley shuffled the papers on his desk, still wondering if Bri would show up for the hearing. His anger at the young woman was causing his face to redden, something that happened when his blood pressure rose. He knew that without her testimony, the evidence he had concocted against Hank's engineer would be considered circumstantial, at best. He didn't know if it would be enough to ruin his career, let alone send him to jail.

When his telephone rang, he yanked the receiver from the base and barked into it. "Hunley speaking."

"Mr. Hunley, I have a call for you," the switchboard operator announced.

"Fine," he groused. "Put it through." He waited for the outside call to come in. "Hello, Leonard Hunley."

On the other end of the line, Bri stood behind the closed door of the telephone booth. She was only a few blocks away from headquarters, but she needed to set the plan in motion. "Lennie?"

Hunley wiped the perspiration from his face. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I-I'm sorry, baby. I got arrested yesterday afternoon. I couldn't get to the bus stop in time," she said, her voice calmer than she had anticipated it would be.

"Are you gonna get here in time for the hearing?" He asked, unconcerned about Bri. He only needed her testimony, nothing more.

"Yes, I'm, um, I'm gonna be there, but… Lennie, I got it."

"Got what?"

"I got Mike's voice recorded. He was telling me he was sorry that my baby died in the fire. Lennie, it's gonna work. I swear, it's gonna work. A certain fireman is going to jail today," she said, excitedly, knowing full well which fireman she was talking about.

"Good girl," he said, the cockiness returning to his voice. "Get here early enough for me to hear it before the hearing."

"Yes sir, am I gonna get my money?"

"Oh, of course you will," the fire marshall lied. "I wouldn't cheat you, Bri. Now, get your ass over here ASAP!" He ordered, slamming down the telephone. He would be glad to get this day over. He had grown tired of her and needed a change. Maybe it was time to find a new girl to meet his needs. As soon as she realized she wasn't getting the money he had promised her, he knew she would no longer be willing to provide for him any longer. He smiled to himself as he considered the possibilities. By nightfall, Mike Stoker would be in jail, Hank Stanley would be devastated, and Hunley would be enjoying the carnal pleasures of a new young purchase.

Bri hung up the telephone, looking out at the police van parked across the street. She waited for the signal they had agreed upon. The telephone she had used to make the call to Hunley had not been chosen at random. She had been driven there by Lieutenant Crockett, who had arranged for a tap to be placed on the line. As soon as he received word from the station that the conversation had been recorded, he gave her another thumbs up. They were stacking the deck against Leonard Hunley, and the evil man had no idea what was about to hit him.

Bri saw the thumbs up sign from the detective. She felt a sense of relief as she opened up the folding door and stepped out into the crisp fall air. She pulled the navy blue sweater around her shoulders, walking the remainder of the distance to headquarters. She didn't want to arrive too early. She needed to get there with just enough time to be called in to testify against Mike Stoker, at least that's what Hunley thought she was going to do.

Ron Crockett watched the young woman walk down the sidewalk. He didn't want to draw attention to her, but he wanted to make sure that no one bothered her while she walked the remainder of the way to headquarters. As soon as she got close to the end of his line of sight, he cranked up the van and pulled into traffic. He wanted to maintain a visual on her until she arrived at her destination. Suddenly, he heard Bri whispering to him through the microphone while she was digging through her purse. "Lieutenant, I need to listen to the tape again. I'm gonna play it while I walk the rest of the way. The angrier I am, the easier it will be to follow through with the plan." She knew there was no way for Lieutenant Crockett to respond to her, so she continued walking while listening to the recording.

Bri pulled out the small recorder and pressed the play button. She folded her arms over her chest as she walked, needing to keep the recorder near her ear so she could hear the conversation she had recorded with Hunley, the evidence the men on the personnel board needed to hear. She slowed down her steps as she listened to his gravelly voice, the threats he had made against her if she didn't comply with his plan to destroy Mike Stoker, and his outright confession that he had been her assailant because she was carrying his child, not Mike. By the time she walked into the parking lot, she was feeling rage boiling in her gut. She quickly rewound the edited tape. She needed to get it back to the beginning, the place where Lieutenant Crockett had recorded Mike's voice in his office earlier this morning, and then had added the segment Bri had recorded with Hunley. It was enough to satisfy Hunley's curiosity should he ask for a sample of the recording before the hearing.

Bri replaced the Dictaphone into her purse, blew out her breath then walked up the steps at the front of headquarters. She only had five minutes to spare, which was exactly what she wanted. Crockett parked the van in a shady location outside of the fire department headquarters building. He took a sip of his lukewarm coffee, needing to stay as alert as possible. He had been up all night securing the necessary paper work and warrants for the covert operation. He had never pulled off a caper like this in such a short time. He hoped that he hadn't missed anything in the rushed process. The last thing he wanted was for Hunley to get away with the terror he had been inflicting because of a technicality.

Inside the building, Alexia and Mike heard the sound of heels clicking down the hallway. Both of them looked up just as Bri rounded the corner. Her face was unreadable. Was she remorseful? Neither Alexia nor Mike could tell. She was obviously nervous, walking with her arms crossed in front of her body. When Bri's eyes met those of her former roommate, she dropped her gaze to her feet, halting her progress down the hallway. She leaned against the wall, unsure of what to do next. A couple of men in fire department dress uniforms walked past her, tipping their heads in acknowledgement. She offered them a smile in return, feeling out of place. She saw movement in the distance and lifted her eyes to see Alexia walking towards her.

Suddenly she felt a firm grip on her right elbow pulling her into a side room.

"It's about time you showed up," Hunley growled into her ear. "We're about to get started. Give it to me."

From somewhere deep inside her soul, Bri found courage she never knew she had. She stiffened her spine, held her chin high, and gripped her purse a little tighter. "No."

"WHAT?" The angry man whispered harshly. "Where the hell'd you get those clothes?"

Ignoring his comment about her attire, she stood her ground. "I said no. Give me my money and I'll give you the tape," Bri bargained, surprised by her own authoritative tone.

Inside the van, Lieutenant Crockett listened intently to what was happening. Bri was deviating from the plan, and she was endangering herself in the process. "No, Bri. Don't provoke him."

Bri watched the anger in Hunley's eyes reach the boiling point. Her anxiety squeezed her chest, cutting off her breathing. She could feel her heart straining to keep the blood rushing through her arteries, the steady thumping rhythm was pounding out the tempo of an SOS in Morse code at the base of her throat.

Hunley pointed his stubby finger in the young woman's face, aware of how quickly she could scream and draw unwanted attention. "Don't. Fuck with me, bitch!" He reached inside his pants pocket with his other hand, holding his pocket knife in his hand. He had used it to threaten her before, and knew he could easily do it again.

"Why not. You've been fucking me for years, Lennie. I'm tired of it. I'll testify, even though it'll be perjury, AND I'll play the damn tape, but I'm no fool. I won't do either without my money first," Bri responded, hoping she wasn't making the biggest mistake of her life.

After several long moments, Hunley reached into his back pocket withdrawing his wallet. He'd pay her enough to pacify her. It would be a small price to pay for what was going to happen in the hearing. "Alright…," he opened up the wallet, withdrawing a couple of bills and passing them over to Bri, unaware that she had caught a glimpse of how much money he had stored inside the brown leather billfold. "Here's $40. You'll get the rest afterwards."

"Sixty."

"Forty," he repeated more forcefully. When Bri didn't take the proffered bills, he begrudgingly acquiesced to her demand. "Fine… Sixty," he grunted through clenched teeth. "But you're gonna regret this. If it's the last thing I do, I'll make you regret this little act of extortion." Dropping the bills on the floor, he reached for her purse, snatching it off of her shoulder. He opened up the beige macramé hobo-style accessory digging inside until he found what he was after while Bri picked up the money from the floor. Holding the Dictaphone up in front of her face, he snorted then stomped off towards the conference room, already a couple of minutes late.

Bri walked slowly out of the empty room. She was met by an icy cold glare from Alexia, who didn't believe Bri was trying to help Mike, no matter what Marco and the others had told her. Bri looked at the faces who were all looking back at her, but two were missing. Mike Stoker and Barney Olsen. That could only mean one thing. The hearing had begun.

E!

Mike Stoker stood beside his attorney as the proceedings began. The allegations were read before the personnel board by Leonard Hunley while the transcriber clicked on the keys of her stenotype machine. As the chairman of the personnel board seated the two men, Mike tugged at his collar feeling as if he were wearing a noose instead of a necktie. His stomach rumbled and a wave of nausea passed over him as he looked at the faces of the men who held his fate in their hands. He quickly closed his eyes, swallowing back the bile that was burning the back of his throat.

"Mr. Stoker, while this is not a courtroom, I want you to understand that these allegations against you could result in an arrest. I also want you to understand that those presenting evidence, and all the witnesses who testify will be sworn in, and they will be guilty of perjury if their testimony is proven to be false, your own testimony included. Do you understand?" The Chairman asked.

"Ahem, yes sir," Mike croaked out hoarsely.

"Having heard the allegations made against you, do you have any questions?"

Mike shook his head, but was prodded for a verbal answer by his attorney.

"The stenographer needs to hear you," Barney whispered.

"Oh, um, no questions," Mike stated, ashamed to be in front of the personnel board, even though he knew he was innocent.

"Very well. Having heard the allegations against you by the Los Angeles County Fire Marshall, how do you plead?"

Mike listened to his attorney who was mumbling into his right ear. He nodded his head in understanding, then raised his voice to be heard by the stenographer. "Innocent of all allegations, sir."

"Alright. Assistant Chief Hunley, you may present your evidence," the chairman directed.

Over the next twenty minutes, Hunley presented the findings of the investigations of the fire at the gas station, the fire at the abandoned warehouse, and finally the fire at Alexia Lopez' apartment. He made it a point to emphasize that for each fire, Mike was the one who made the first call, and who was the first fireman on the scene to put out the blazes. He paced slowly in front of the men who made up the personnel board, stroking his chin as he presented his version of events. He called for Samford Bennett's testimony, trying his best to make the man say out loud that he believed in Mike Stoker's guilt. Yet, the arson investigator never said those exact words.

Mike listened as Barney chuckled under his breath at the antics of the fire marshall. The attorney scribbled a note on the yellow pad in front of him and pushed it into Mike's line of vision. Mike read the words and smiled with a sense of relief. 'He ain't no Perry Mason.' The anger that was raging in Mike's soul calmed down slightly after reading those words. He knew that Barney knew he was getting upset, but what man wouldn't? Everything that was presented was true, but the spin it was given made Mike sound like a monster, a rogue fireman who hadn't seen enough action since being promoted to engineer, and so he had resorted to creating his own. Mike's knee bounced uncontrollably as he sat with his hands clenching the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Then he heard the words that made his heart leap upwards, straining against the tight collar of his shirt.

Leonard Hunley stared at Mike. "But the details of the worst thing he's done should be told by the victim herself. I want to call in Miss Brianna Olivier."

Outside the conference room, Brianna was leaning back in her seat beside Caroline. She was sitting across from Alexia, but the two hadn't spoken. She glanced at Maria, an older and heavier version of Alexia, as the woman sat, silently praying the Rosary. Again, a brief wave of jealousy covered her, then disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. No matter how much she wanted a family, she was never going to have one. She couldn't go back in time and choose different parents. All she could do was make the right choices now.

"Please don't do this, Bri," Alexia spoke up. "Don't go in there."

Marco leaned over, pulling his sister into a sideways hug. "She knows what she's doing, Lexi. Leave her alone."

"You don't understand. None of you understand!" She said, raising her voice as she looked around the room. "None of you know what he does to her. He has a way of controlling her and-"

The door of the conference room opened up, and Leonard Hunley stuck his head out calling for Bri. When she heard her name called, Bri looked up into the eyes of the man she hated with all her heart and soul.

"Brianna Olivier," Hunley called out, as if he didn't know who she was.

On shaky legs, Bri stood up and slowly walked across the hallway to the door Hunley was holding open for her. She tried to lick her lips, but her mouth and throat had gone completely dry. She knew that as soon as she walked through the open door, she could never go back. Her entire world was about to change, if she could muster up the courage to face down the man she so despised, and tell the personnel board the truth about what had happened to her and her baby all those months ago.

Alexia collapsed into tears, crying on her older brother's shoulder. "She won't be able to do it," the young woman sobbed. "She won't be able to tell them that it was really Lennie."

"Sshhh," Marco soothed, looking at his mother for help in comforting his frightened sister. "We've got to trust her."

Maria reached out, holding her daughter's hand. "Sweetheart, we need to pray that she'll have the courage to do this. It's the only thing we can do for her, now."

Inside the conference room, Bri was sworn in and given directions about speaking loud enough so that the stenographer would be able to hear her clearly. She felt exposed as she sat before some of the highest ranking men in the Los Angeles County Fire Department. They were important, she wasn't; they were upstanding citizens, smarter than her; and these men were all staring at her. She could feel the iciness in her veins, even while her face began to perspire.

She watched as Lennie stood in front of her as dominating as he had ever presented himself before. In her mind, she could see him standing over her as he played his awful fantasy games. She could see him laughing at her as he degraded and humiliated her, violating her over and over again. She could see him tossing her a few dollars for the despicable services she was providing him, a scene that had just been repeated in the side room when she had forced him to give her some of the money they had agreed upon. Her lower lip began to quiver as she cut a quick glance at Mike and Barney. They were anticipating that she would say one thing, but Hunley was expecting a completely different story. She was about to make the biggest decision of her life, one that would determine her entire future. But which version of events was she going to be able to tell now that she was before the personnel board?

Time ticked by slowly for those waiting outside the conference room. Johnny paced, running his hands through his hair, realizing he should have gotten it cut before coming to headquarters. Roy watched his antsy partner, wondering what was going on inside was going on inside the conference room as well as what was going on inside his partner's head. Apparently, Mike wasn't the only man at 51's who was going through something difficult at the moment. The only difference was that they all knew what Mike was struggling with, but no one knew what demons were tormenting their younger medic. Chet and Caroline held hands quietly, watching Hank's jaw muscles flexing as he clenched his teeth in anger. The three Lopezes and Beverly were holding hands, their eyes closed in silent prayer.

Inside the conference room, Leonard Hunley seated his star witness. Her lower lip was trembling, and she was struggling to look at his face. Her breathing was coming in short gasps, and her hands were twitching as she tried to hide them in her lap. He could see the effect he was having on her. She was terrified of him and he loved the power he felt standing over her.

"Miss Olivier, I want to make this as easy on you as possible. I won't ask you to tell us your story as I'm sure that would be too difficult for you emotionally. I'll just ask you a few questions. Please answer them as honestly as you can. You're safe here," he stated in a syrupy sweet voice.

Bri's eyes darted around the room, unable to look directly at anyone. She desperately wanted something to do with her hands, regretting not bringing a rubber band to play with while she answered his questions.

"Now, were you assaulted in your apartment on the morning of May 26, 1975?"

"Yes," she said, her voice only a whisper.

"Miss Olivier, I'm sorry, but you'll need to speak a little louder so the stenographer can hear you correctly," Hunley explained in a voice Bri barely recognized.

"Ahem, yes," she said a little louder.

"And did that assault result in a miscarriage?"

"Yes," she said again, wiping the tears from her cheeks. One of the men sitting in front of her carried a handkerchief to her, spilling politely as he handed it to her. "Thank you."

"And did this same man who assaulted you and killed your baby, did he also set your apartment on fire?"

"No," she commented, shaking her head.

Hunley ran his hand over his lower face, removing the sweat beads that had suddenly popped up on his upper lip. She was deviating from the orders he had given her earlier about her testimony. "Um, okay, now… Who set fire to you apartment?"

"My pimp… Ricardo Gomez… He was," she sniffled, sucking in a quick breath to continue. "Ricardo was w-working with him."

Hunley felt a sense of relief. She was implicating Ricardo in the arson fire that destroyed her apartment, which would at least give her story some element of truth. Pleased with her performance so far, he continued pushing her on. "And the 'him' you are referring to, the man who assaulted you and killed your baby because it was his child he was ashamed of… Is that man in this room now?"

Bri felt her heart thudding in anticipation, her nostrils flaring. "Y-yes."

"Is that man, Firefighter Specialist Michael Stoker?" Hunley asked, his joy difficult to contain. Her tears were an added bonus, tugging at the hearts of the men on the personnel board.

Bri gulped, swallowing back the bile that threatened to burn a hole in her throat. "Uh…," she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing out the tears that were lingering along the lower lids. "I-I'm… Gonna be… Sick."

"It's okay, Miss Olivier. I know this is difficult for you. Take a few deep breaths and just take your time," he stated, patting her on her forearm.

Hunley was silently growing impatient with her antics, anxious to move the proceedings along. "While she composes herself, I'd like to present a tape recording of a conversation Miss Olivier had with Mr. Stoker which, I believe, will answer the question that she is struggling to respond to." Hunley removed the Dictaphone from his briefcase. Having listened to the beginning of the tape, he felt confident that this would slam the door on Mike Stoker's career as a firefighter, perhaps even slam a jail door closed behind him. He fought hard to maintain his own composure, resisting the urge to cackle in a maniacal laugh as he pressed the play button.

Mike felt a lump forming in his throat as he listened to the beginnings of the tape, hearing his own voice talking about how sad it was that Bri had lost her baby. He knew that Hunley was going to try to spin his comments into a confession, but how was the fire marshall going to explain his own comments?

Hunley stared at Mike Stoker as the tape played, listening to the stenographer's keys clicking away as she recorded the statement. Suddenly, the tape seemed to hang up momentarily, then started back playing again, but the voices he heard were not the voices he had expected. He listened in horror as his own threats came rushing back at him. "Ga, uh," he stammered, snatching the cassette tape from the Dictaphone and flicking his pocket knife open, ripping the coffee-colored ribbon out of it. "Um, that, uh, must have been the wrong tape, uh."

"Mr. Hunley, what's going on here?" The chairman of the personnel board asked, his own face turning red in anger. He and the rest of the board had heard enough to know that Leonard Hunley had done something horrible, and by destroying the tape, they might never know exactly what that something was.

Summoning all the courage she could muster, Bri stood up, pointing a finger at Hunley. "It's not the wrong tape. It was YOU, not Mike who killed my baby, OUR baby!"

Hunley felt like a tiger backed into a corner, and instincts told him it was time to pounce. Everything was going wrong. She had lied to him. Double crossed him. And there was no way in hell he would allow her to get away with it. All sense of reasoning vaporized in the heat of the moment. Without thinking about the consequences, he lunged at Bri with his knife drawn. He heard her scream as his knife tore into the flesh of her face. She had managed to jerk away from him at the last possible moment, preventing the knife from slicing through her throat. "You'll pay for this you lying whore!"

The blood curdling scream tore through the silence in the waiting area just as Lieutenant Crockett barreled into the facility, his hand already poised on his sidearm.

"Stand back," he ordered, waving at those seated outside the conference room. "Get over in that corner. Backup is coming."

The men from 51's, accustomed to risking their own lives to save others, used their bodies to shelter the three women present.

"What's going on, Ron?" Hank asked, just as the detective charged into the conference room door, allowing no time for him to respond.

Hunley, staring down the barrel of a Smith and Wesson 9 mm semi-automatic pistol, caught Bri's head in the crook of his neck.

On the other end of the weapon stood Lieutenant Ronald Crockett. "Don't do it, man. Let 'er go."

Bri felt the stream of blood sliding warmly down her check. He had cut her from the side of her right ear to beneath her right eye. Whether he had intended to or not really didn't matter. In this moment, nothing mattered. She felt Hunley flex his arm muscles a little tighter around her neck, pulling her into a position between himself and the Lieutenant. Sensing that each breath might be her last, she began to struggle to speak. "De-destroyed tape… Over… It's… Over," she cried, knowing that what the personnel board had heard had been only the beginning. The real testament to the horrors Leonard Hunley had inflicted had been confessed farther along in the recording. She had only been able to accomplish part of her goal. She had helped exonerate Mike, but she had failed to tell the board about the monster who was their fire marshall.

She closed her eyes, feeling the blood dripping down beside her ear, running along her throat and mixing with Hunley's sweat before it stained the pretty new dress she had been given. She stopped fighting against him, choosing instead to die in a manner opposite of the way she had lived, with dignity. Then Bri closed her eyes, waiting for the piecing burn of the sharp instrument which she knew was about to tear through her throat, severing her jugular vein. Her only consolation was that death would be quick. She just hoped that her final act would find favor with whatever deity controlled her fate, and that she would be allowed to join, and perhaps even hold, her baby in the afterlife.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: Well, I apologize for the delay in this last chapter, but real life knocked me flat on my back – literally. I spent 5 days in the hospital – LOL. But I'm recovering and back to the final chapter of Stoker's Scandal. Thank you all for all of your support and encouragement.

Chapter 21

Mike Stoker flattened his palms on the table in front of him. He had doubted Bri's ability to tell her story in front of her perpetrator. However, he had seen the frail, nervous, frightened young woman stand up, point her finger at HIS accuser, and spew forth a barrage of words that were both disgusting, and yet filled with naked truth, exposing the fire marshall's misdeeds. It was a modern day David and Goliath story, and he had witnessed it from beginning to end. In a split second, his rescuer instincts detonated his adrenaline flow, and he jumped to his feet. Bri was bleeding, Hunley was holding her hostage, and Mike knew he had to do something to save her. He turned to rush Hunley, but felt two sets of strong arms linking elbows with him, drawing him away from the chaos.

"No, Mike," Barney Olsen warned.

"Stand down, Stoker," the Chief ordered, as he and the attorney pushed Mike back into his seat, eyes riveted on the crazed fire marshall and his hostage.

"ACK!" Bri screamed, feeling the sharp cold blade pressing against the side of her throat. She saw the gun in Lieutenant Crockett's hand, knowing that if he pulled the trigger, she would die along with her captor.

"Let 'er go, man," Crockett ordered.

Hunley felt the round door knob pressing against his back as he held it open, leaving him poised between the conference room with the upper echelon of his department, and the waiting area with Lieutenant Crockett and the other Mike Stoker supporters. He was trapped between two worlds, both of which he knew would damn him, now. A familiar voice from inside the conference room spoke up, pulling Hunley's attention from the gun-wielding detective.

"Let the girl go, Leonard," Samford Bennett called out.

Sweat rolled down Hunley's cheeks. He wanted to use his shirt sleeve to wipe away the perspiration, but he had no free hand. "Shut up, Sam."

"Listen to me. Right now, all you've done is cut her. It was an accident, and we all saw it," Sam said sweeping his arm around the room of statue-still men. "She moved when you were going toward her, so it's HER fault, not YOURS!" He said, nearly shouting.

Mike was becoming incensed. His heart was racing, his breath was coming in quick gasps, as he listened to what Samford Bennett was saying. How could the investigator say those things when he knew the truth? Mike's leg began to bounce, and he felt the arms of his Chief and his attorney return to control him. They knew he was quickly reaching the boiling point. Even the quiet ones will explode when they reach their limit.

"Leonard, look," Sam said, reaffirming he had his supervisor's attention. "Don't let some two-bit whore ruin your career, man. She's a tramp, just a liar. She altered the damn tape to set you up! We all heard it."

Bri stood as still as possible, tears seeping from her clenched eyes. Everything Samford Bennett was saying about her was true. She had taken a risk by trusting him the previous day. Once again, she had been lied to by another man. Her soul was beyond crushed.

"Leonard, let… her… go. She isn't worth you losing your career over. If you hurt her more, then you'll go to jail. Think about it. Is this trashy slut worth jail time?"

Leonard felt an inkling of reason returning. Sam was right. Bri was nothing, a nobody. He was important, the fire marshall. If his superiors had seen the assault as nothing more than an accident, then he was in the clear. If they acknowledged that Bri had set him up, then he would be exonerated of any wrong-doing. As much as he wanted to hurt her for double-crossing him, now was not the time to do it. He would have his chance later on, without witnesses. He relaxed his grip on Bri just enough to allow her to breathe a little better.

"Listen to him, Hunley," Crockett ordered again, still aiming his weapon at Hunley and Bri, wishing the man would give him a clear shot and a reason to pull the trigger.

"You're right," Hunley began, "she ain't worth it. I-I was just upset. I used my knife to cut that tape 'cause… Um, it was an old tape, but there was, um, some confidential stuff on it. I-I was just doin' my job, and… And she got in the way," he stammered, relaxing his grip a little more, feeling Bri's body melting against his chest.

"Just drop the knife," Crockett stated as calmly as he could.

"Toss it to me," Sam requested. "I'll give it back to you when you let the girl go." He knew Hunley's Achilles heel was his massive ego, and the arson investigator was determined to exploit that weakness to resolve the crisis.

Hunley thought carefully before he made his decision. He had been able to convince Sam that Mike was guilty. They could continue with Mike's hearing as soon as he let Bri go, and everything settled back down. Slowly, he lowered his knife, making sure he didn't touch her again. He had to keep the ruse going that her injury had only been an accident. Gently, he tossed the knife in the general direction of Sam.

The blindingly fast investigator dodged the knife tossed in his direction, and rocketed across the room, catching Bri as she collapsed. Mike saw his opportunity, and with the speed of lightning, bolted across the table, reaching Hunley just as Sam pulled Bri out the door into the waiting area.

White hot molten rage shot daggers from Mike's angry azure eyes. His hands clenched into iron-hard fists, grabbing the cocky fire marshall, yanking him from the door to the floor in one quick smooth move. The engineer had weeks of pent up anger that he unleashed on the older man. Using his own body weight, Mike pinned Hunley to the floor, smashing the fire marshall's face with one brutal punch after another. He drew back his fist for a fourth punch, looking into the battered bloody evil face of Leonard Hunley before unleashing another solid blow to his obviously broken nose. Mike lost all sense of time, not even hearing the screamed curses of his punching bag as he continued his relentless assault.

Lieutenant Ronald Crockett reholstered his weapon before stepping through the doorway into the conference room. He reached Mike and Hunley at the same time as the Chief, and together, the two men were able to drag Mike, whose arms were still swinging, off of the semi-conscious fire marshall.

"Enough, Stoker. That's enough!" The Chief ordered.

"If you heard that tape I have from Bri's wire, you wouldn't say that," Crockett countered. "I got it all out there in the van," he said, jerking his head in the direction of the parking lot. "Including the entire conversation between that asshole fire marshall and Miss Olivier where he confessed to everything, including setting Mike up," he explained, pressing a hand against Mike's still heaving chest to keep him held back. "That tape he just cut? Well, she played it, the whole thing, on her way over here while she was wired up, so I've got the ENTIRE incident on one tape. You'll get a copy," the detective assured the surprised Chief.

"Thank you. I believe we'll be needing it," the Chief said, easing Mike to the closest chair. "Take it easy, son," he said, squeezing the back of Mike's neck as the engineer held on to the proffered chair to keep from falling.

Mike's adrenaline rush was subsiding, leaving him feeling shaky and dizzy. He began to hold his breath for a couple of seconds before blowing it out in an effort to prevent the hyperventilation episode he sensed was beginning. His heart was still slamming around inside his chest, and he willed it to slow down. "B-Bri?"

Barney Olsen sat down beside his client, hearing Mike's breathy question. "Sam's got her. Roy and John are taking care of her out there. She just fainted, Mike. It wasn't a life threatening cut. She'll be fine."

Hearing Sam's name brought on a new bout of fury in the engineer. He thought of the things the investigator had said about Bri. "But he…." Then reason seemed to return to Mike's brain, and he began to understand why Sam had said those disgusting things about Bri. "Oh," he muttered, leaning his elbows on his knees and running his hands through his brown disheveled hair. "I get it."

Barney patted Mike's back in a friendly show of support as the heaving man continued to calm down. Both of them stared at the arrest taking place on the floor in front of them.

"Alright, Leonard Hunley, you have the right to remain silent…," Crockett began, roughly rolling the groaning fire marshall onto his stomach and slapping the handcuff's in place. He looked up at the men who comprised the personnel board. "Gentlemen, you may, or may not plan on doing anything to him, but I sure as hell do. He won't be at work tomorrow," Crockett stated, turning away from the downed fire marshall, and looking at the commotion coming into the doorway.

Two uniformed officers ran into the room, hands near their weapons. They took one look at the detective, who was giving them a smirk. "What took you so long? You boys let the fire department take down the bad guy," Crockett snickered, tossing Mike a grin.

Barney slapped Mike on the back. "I always said that hose jockeys were braver than the boys in blue," he laughed.

"Hey, watch it now," Crockett chuckled, pointing his finger at the attorney.

"Ugh, argh, he-help me," Hunley grunted as he was hauled to his feet by the two officers.

Lieutenant Crockett looked over at the man wearing the blood-stained shirt, his nose angled in an odd direction, and both eyes beginning to swell. "Have one of the paramedic's look at 'im before you take him in, will ya?" Crockett placed one hand on his hip as he ambled over to the place where Mike was seated. He opened his mouth to speak just as a muffled agonized scream followed by gagging was heard from the waiting area. "Uh-oh," he said, turning and rushing to the door. "What happened… Never mind," the detective stated in answer to his own question, seeing John and Alexia near the dry-heaving fire marshall who was curled in a fetal position on the floor, hands cuffed behind his back. "I do NOT want to know."

Mike straightened up when he saw the crooked-grin and bloody hand of John Gage walking towards him. "Wha-what did you do?"

Johnny gave his engineer an innocent puppy dog look, then burst into his lop-sided grin. "Who me?" He grimaced when he saw Hunley's blood on his right hand. "Argh!" Seeing a box of tissue on the table, Johnny snatched a few of them out to remove the offending body fluid, as much as possible. "That bastard had a crooked nose. I jus' straightened it out for 'im," he laughed, smiling for the first time in several days.

"Ugh," Mike grunted. "Thanks, man."

"Hey, no problem, but you really ought to thank Lexi. She finished him off," John stated, giving the other two men a knowing look.

"She didn't," Barney commented.

"Oh yea, she did. I put him on his knees, then she used her thick chunky shoe to place a well-aimed kick." Johnny jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Hunley's choking on his nuts out there," he laughed.

"Oh man, I hate I missed that show," Barney laughed. "And he's handcuffed so he couldn't do anything to protect himself."

"From either of us," Johnny quipped.

Mike's face turned serious. "Johnny, how's Bri?"

Johnny looked down at the tissue sticking to his hands, giving the other men a wistful smile. "She's okay; Sam may not be, though."

E!

Samford Bennett watched in amazement as Roy DeSoto and the other men from 51's immediately jumped into action. Sam had gently laid the unconscious woman on the floor, removing his jacket to cover her bare legs.

"Get me a first-aid kit," Roy ordered. "And push that chair over here. We've gotta elevate her legs."

"Is she gonna be alright?" Sam questioned, seeing Bri's head begin to loll from side to side.

"Bri? Can you hear me?" Roy said, shaking her shoulders.

Bri felt something cold and hard against her back. Someone was wrapping something around her legs, but she couldn't tell what was happening to her. She tried to open her eyes, her lids feeling as heavy as lead. "Ga, ugh," she groaned, panic rising when she felt several large hands touching her, her legs being elevated.

"N-no," she cried, opening her eyes slightly, and seeing blurry figures moving around her. Then a voice she recognized, began calling her name.

"Bri? Bri, it's Sam. I'm so sorry. I'm-"

Suddenly, all the hurtful things Samford Bennett had said came rushing at her. Now, here he was hovering over her. He was going to hurt her like she had been hurt so many times before. "No, NO!" She screamed, thrashing about as she returned to full awareness. The heel of her right hand caught Sam's lower lip, causing his teeth to sink into the tender flesh.

"Umph," he grunted, backing away from her slightly, and patting his fingers to his mouth checking for blood. "Guess I deserved that."

"Easy, Bri. Take it easy. You're safe. It's over. It's all over," Roy soothed, using his calming paramedic voice. "We're gonna take good care of you. We heard you did great in there," he smiled at her, accepting the first aid kit Hank was handing him. He opened it up, removing the supplies he would need to clean and bandage her wound. "Looks like you may need a few stitches, but you'll be just fine."

Sam grabbed a piece of gauze, dabbing it at his swelling lip. "Hunley's gone, Bri. You did it. You beat him," Sam smiled. "Well, you and a couple of other people who took shots at him, but mainly you." He smiled at the confused woman. "I had to say those things to make him let you go. I hated saying them, but… I just didn't know what else to do. I… I couldn't let him hurt you anymore, Bri. I just couldn't."

Bri winced at the pain from the antiseptic wipe Roy was using to clean her lacerated face. "He…," she licked her lips, her memory returning in full. "He destro'… Th' tape," she slurred.

"That was just a copy," Sam reminded her. "We still have the original."

"That ain't all we've got," Crockett added, kneeling down beside them. "You're wearing a wire, so I've got everything recorded, including you replaying the conversation on your way here. Remember?"

Bri tried to smile, but her injury prevented it. She felt a large warm hand clutching her own smaller, colder one. A thumb was raking across the back of her hand, and for the first time, it wasn't something that made her skin crawl.

"It's all really over, Bri. We're gonna put him away for a long time," Sam said, giving her hand a little squeeze.

"Want me to call an ambulance?" Chet asked, concerned for the young woman he and Caroline had gotten to know better earlier this morning.

Sam looked at Roy. "Can I just take her in my car?" His guilt was killing him. He had never been so disrespectful to anyone in his life, let alone a young woman.

Roy looked down at his patient. "It's up to you, Bri. Do you want to go to Rampart in an ambulance, or with Sam?"

Bri looked back and forth between the two men. Part of her really wanted to trust someone for once in her life, but Sam had hurt her. Everyone had hurt her. Yet, Sam had apologized. He had said he didn't mean those things. Was he lying now, or before when she was being held hostage? "Neither," she said in self-preservation mode. "No hos-hospital."

"You won't have to stay overnight. You just need some stitches. You don't want that to get infected, or leave a big scar," Roy commented, trying to convince her to go in for treatment.

"No, no money," she said.

"No problem," Roy countered. "It's a county hospital. No one is turned away for their inability to pay. Now… How about it?"

"Mmm, 'kay," she mumbled, feeling exhausted both physically and emotionally.

"Atta girl," Roy grinned.

"I'll take her," Sam offered again.

"BRI!" Alexia called out, finally breaking free from Marco's grasp. "Bri, are you okay?" She asked, leaning over Roy's shoulder.

"Lex? Lexi, I'm sor-ry, bu' I couldn't tell you what I was really tryin' to do," Bri sniffled, accepting Roy and Sam's hands to ease her into a sitting position.

"Feeling better?"

Bri looked at Roy, nodding her response. She allowed them to help her into the chair where she was enveloped in a hug from her former roommate.

"Oh, Bri. Please forgive me."

"Heeeey, it's okay," Bri soothed, running her hands down the back of Lexi's dark hair. "You didn't know. There's nothin' to forgive."

"Roy, I'll bring my car around closer to the entrance so she won't have to walk as far," Sam stated, stepping away from Bri and Lexi.

"Lex, please go with me? Please?" Bri begged, afraid of being alone with a man she didn't really know.

Alexia looked around at the faces looking at her. She saw her mother drying her eyes. "Marco, will you pick me up at the hospital?"

"Of course," the lineman agreed, feeling Beverly's reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"And Bri, I can make arrangements for you to be readmitted to The Wellhouse when you get finished at the hospital," Beverly added. "What you did in there took amazing courage and strength. You can beat this thing, and I'd love to help you do it."

Bri tried to smile, but the tugging of the tape and the swelling along the laceration prevented it. She felt the backs of her eyes stinging, welling up with tears. "Thank you," she whispered, unable to find her regular voice. "I'd like that."

"And then," Maria Lopez stepped up, her plump face shining with a smile. "Then we've got a couple of extra bedrooms at our house. I'll have one ready for you when you're ready to leave The Wellhouse."

"What? Yo-you'd do that for me?" Bri cried, not knowing how to accept the kindness of others.

"Yes, we're a family here," Lexi answered. "And you're a part of it; you're my best friend," she whispered through her tears.

Roy saw Sam walking back down the corridor. "Okay, your ride to Rampart has arrived. Do you think you can walk if we help you?"

"Yes," she said, accepting Roy and Chet's assistance to walk down the hallway to the open doorway.

Still feeling a little woozy on her feet, Bri suddenly felt herself swooped up by a pair of strong arms.

"I may just be an arson investigator, but I'm still a fireman," Sam said, smiling at the woman cradled in his arms. "I can still do this."

Roy scurried to the white sedan idling just outside the building, and opened up the back door. "Watch her head."

Alexia rounded the back of the car, hurrying to get inside. Marco had followed her, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

"We'll be right behind you," Marco stated, then looked over at Bri. "You did it, Bri. I'm so proud of you." He saw the young woman's eyes fade into faint smile that the rest of her face couldn't accommodate, just as Roy closed the door.

Sam plopped down behind the steering wheel. "Okay, ladies, we'll be at Rampart in just a few minutes. Johnny is calling ahead so they'll be waiting for us." He glanced in his rearview mirror, locking eyes briefly with Bri. He knew she really didn't want to be alone with him, or any other man at the moment, so he was grateful that Alexia was traveling with them. He pulled into traffic, being careful even though he stole the occasional glance into the back seat. Bri had her head leaning against Alexia's shoulder, and Alexia was holding Bri's hand. He knew that these two woman had been through hell and back with each other. Now, he hoped that both of them were about to start their lives over, fresh and new.

E!

Inside the building, Mike and his attorney were waiting outside the chief's office. Nervously, Mike paced between the window overlooking the parking lot and the bubbling fish aquarium on the opposite wall.

"Who ever heard of a fish tank in a fire department?" Mike asked, his voice laced with frustration.

"Maybe they use it to practice drafting," Barney joked, hoping to relieve his client's fears. He had no doubt that the information being shared by Lieutenant Crockett with the Chief was going to result in a complete exoneration of Mike, and a well-deserved apology on behalf of the department. He watched Mike stop his pacing when he reached the window again, shaking his head with a snort at Barney's comment.

The engineer propped one hand on his hip, leaning his other forearm against the window frame. "I just want to go back to work," he mused.

"You will, Mike. Just give Crockett time to tell the Chief what he needs to know." He continued staring at his client, seeing the crystal blue eyes seeming to cloud over as he stared into nothingness. "Something else going on?"

Mike looked over at his attorney then back out the window. He pressed his lips into a thin line, searching for the right words to explain what he was feeling. "How? How can anybody call himself a man and treat a woman like that? I mean, who cares if she's a prostitute? This goes much deeper than just paying for sex," he stated. "Hunley is evil through and through. How will those two young women ever trust another man, a REAL man, again?"

Barney Olsen had always prided himself in being 75% attorney and 25% therapist. All good attorney's had to be able to read people, not just listen to their words. They had to be able to see deeper, past the hard exterior shell and into the bare soul of their client. The soul he was seeing in Mike Stoker was that of a gallant knight in shining armor, a young warrior on a white stallion who wanted to save the damsel in distress. Barney gave a wistful smile as he thought about the image of Mike Stoker, not as a knight in shining armor on a white horse, but a hero in turnouts riding a red engine, and the wise attorney had an idea of which distressed damsel his client was intending to rescue.

E!

"Is the girl okay, Roy?" Johnny asked as soon as his partner walked back into the waiting area.

"She'll be fine. The cut is really minor; I think she fainted from all the stress she's been under lately." Roy stood amid the group that included Johnny, Hank, Chet, and Caroline.

Johnny ran a worried finger beneath his nose. "Yea, she'll be fine physically, but emotionally, this is gonna take a toll."

"That poor girl," Caroline sniffed, thinking about the time she had spent with Bri earlier. "She's not a bad person. She just needs a chance, and someone to care about her." She snuggled into Chet's side, enjoying the feeling of him pulling her closer. "Life isn't fair."

Chet kissed her forehead lightly. "No, Baby, it isn't. But maybe her life will start to turn around now."

Caroline went on to tell the assembled group about her conversation with Bri, including her reaction to being given the new clothing. Everyone had seen the blood stains on the shoulder of the dress, and knew that the garment was ruined. Five sad faces stood in a circle staring at the floor. Everyone was thinking the same thing, but no one was ready to voice it.

"How long 'til we hear from Mike?" Roy asked, turning his attention to the senior man in the group.

"I don't know," Hank replied, leaning against the wall, "but I'm not leaving until I know he's in the clear."

"Oh, he's more than in the clear," Barney Olsen commented, having overheard the end of the conversation. "There will be a full exoneration in his personnel file along with a formal apology from the department," he said with his face beaming.

Mike, having become more subdued since his earlier outburst, dipped his head as he neared the group. "I'll be back with you fellows on Saturday."

"Well, a'right! That's great, Sluggo!" Johnny kidded, initiated a round of back slapping and handshakes from the group to their engineer.

Caroline stood on her tiptoes to give Mike a kiss on the cheek. "That's great, Mike."

"Hey, watch it, Stoker. She's spoken for," Chet commented, joining in with the laughter.

"Thank you all for being here for me. I really appreciate it. Um, has anyone heard from Bri?" Mike asked, concerned for the brave young woman who had risked her life to clear his name.

"No, but why don't we head over to the hospital and check on her?" Hank asked the group. Seeing Mike looking around the room, he thought he might know who his engineer was looking for. "Sam took Bri to the hospital, and Alexia rode with her in his car, so Marco, Mrs. Lopez, and Beverly followed them to Rampart."

Mike nodded his acknowledgement, thankful that Alexia hadn't decided to just go home before he had a chance to talk to her.

"Why don't Chet and I go by Bloomers and get Bri some flowers?"

Johnny looked at Caroline, impressed with her compassion. "Or… I can go get her some flowers, and maybe you two could go get her something else to wear. Her dress was kind o' bloody," Johnny suggested.

"I'm paying for it," Mike stated, reaching for his wallet.

"No, no," Barney said, tapping Mike's elbow. "I know what fireman make, remember?" He reached for his wallet. "It would be an honor if you'd let me take care of this. It's been a pleasure representing you, Mike, and helping put away one of the bad guys. I'm glad that our profession is primarily made up of true heroes, but every once in a while one of our own goes rogue. It's a terrible thing, and something we all need to fight against," he said, looking at the assembled group. "I hope I've done a little something to give us back our good name."

Mike extended his hand to his attorney. "You have, Barney. I can't thank you enough."

"That goes for all of us," Hank said, following his engineer's lead.

Chet and Roy extended their hands, gripping Barney in firm handshakes.

Johnny offered his thanks last, shaking hands with the man who had almost represented him and Roy in a theft case. "Thanks, man. You're right about bad firemen. We could spend our entire careers trying to repair the damage a few bad ones do for the reputation of all firemen, everywhere. I just want the citizens we protect to know that we aren't all like that, ya know," Johnny stated, his mind returning to a different place and time.

Barney gave Johnny, Chet, and Caroline a few bills to cover the expense of the flowers and clothes. "You're right, John. But there's enough good ones out there, like you fellas, to make up for the likes of Hunley."

"I sure hope so," Johnny said, pocketing the money. "Thanks, I'll, ah… I'll see the rest of you at Rampart in a little while, a'right?" He said, backing away from the group before turning to leave the building. He needed to get away, needed to take some deep breaths. He wanted to talk to Iris, and let her know that he was going to follow through with his plan. He reached for the door handle of his Rover, seeing Hunley's dried blood in the cuticle of his thumbnail. He could still hear the pain-filled screams and the bloody face, but the image of Hunley in agony quickly morphed into a different face, a different scream, and a different place and time when a rogue civil servant had created terror, and Johnny had been more than just a witness to the carnage when the hounds of hell had been unleashed.

E!

A/N: I know this may seem like a strange place to end Stoker's Scandal, but Johnny's Journey will begin where this one is leaving off. Johnny and Iris will have a conversation at Bloomer's that is relevant to Johnny's Journey, and so I decided to start that story now. Thank you all for reading and especially for encouraging me – and pointing out my errors – in this series. I hope you enjoyed Stoker's Scandal, but we haven't seen the last of Hunley. There's still another scene or two for him – LOL. I hope you'll join me for Johnny's Journey, the last of the six stories in this series. Thanks again!


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